


Opportunities Rising

by B_Radley



Series: Genesis and Coda [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Loyalty, Multi, Pirates, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: In the last year of the Clone War, Lassa Rhayme, Captain of the pirate vesselOpportunityand the group of pirates known as the Blood Bone Order, is at odds. Her gunner and mentor has been caught and executed by a Republic world. Her quartermaster is suspected of stealing from her and her crew.Asajj Ventress has put Level 1313 of Coruscant behind her after her set-to with the Jedi while attempting to assist Ahsoka Tano. The two women will find themselves working together again to save a member of Lassa's crew from bounty hunters.Together the two warriors will face bounty hunters, Separatist commanders, thieving lovers and crewmembers, and their own demons, as well as their growing feelings and friendship for one another.





	1. Prologue: A Pirate Looks at Forty

**Midlothian Orbit**  
**Free Vessel _Opportunity_**  
**Thirteen Years after the Fall of the Republic**  
**(6 BBY)**

The pirate watches as her engineer salutes and exits the cabin. For a moment, she longs for the time when he would have merely grunted and turned away. _That's what I get for going respectable and legit. All this pomp and ceremony bullshit._

She turns and walks into the bed-space. As she does the sharp pain returns to her right side as the broken ribs shift. For the fiftieth time; she brings her hand up to her lips to check for blood and froth. For the fiftieth time, her hands are dry.

She shakes her head. _Must be getting old, Lassa dear. You came out a lot better the last time you fought an enraged Wookiee one-on-one._

Lassa smirks at the thought of that long-ago battle. _Of course, back then the Wookiee was a female fighting for survival. She could be reasoned with for mutual benefit._

Black Krrsantan was a male, fighting for profit. _No reasoning with him._ Her gaze grows rueful as she looks at the woman lying in the bed. _Dani is going to be pissed when she wakes up and finds out that I left one of her favorite knives buried in the asshole's chest._

_It had only slowed the enraged bounty hunter down slightly, before the A-wings got there._

A low moan from the woman cuts through to her heart. Dani Faygan was the most seriously injured of them, with a through-and-through blaster wound to her chest from a Corellian's hideout blaster. She had gone into the bacta first. 

For a full week.

Dr. Hegridhara had not been amused when Lassa had threatened to stuff him in a trash-receptacle when he had tried to get her in the bacta ahead of other crewmembers after Dani.

Including their erstwhile Commander, Jame Blackthorn, who was now swimming in the fluid, along with another junior crewman in the other tank, who Heg had begrudgingly put in before Lassa.

Jame Blackthorn would've probably rivaled her for self-sacrificing stubbornness if he had been conscious. To argue his place in the line up. _A cracked skull, a broken arm, a previously dislocated shoulder, and a broken ankle_ had moved him up, in Lassa's learned medical opinion.

That and the fact that she was now the acting-Commander of the two ships and the A-wing detachment.

Her eyes tear as she thinks of the woman who was probably more seriously injured than any. The target of the bounty hunters and the three squads of Imperial commandos, as well as the three light cruisers.

The rebel operative and intelligence chief who had made her base with them for the last year or so. 

_Fulcrum._

A woman whose stricken expression as she surveyed the wounded being treated. Wounded because the small task force had been hunting her. Lassa had tried to take Ahsoka in her arms and lead her to bacta. Ahsoka had shaken her off; the blood dripping from the deep wound on the side of her center lek.

She had turned her back to see to another crewman. When she had turned around, the younger Togruta was gone.

An A-Wing was gone as well. Heg had said that the med-droid had been at least able to dress and bind the wound.

Lassa curses softly, as she turns to the repairs. The _Opportunity_ had blown her hyperdrive, having to tow the _Bucket,_ the old _Consular_ into hyperspace to get them out of there. Two of the eleven sublight engines on the corvette were now twisted and hanging from their mountings, from the three cruisers' guns.

Three cruisers who now rest in pieces on that damned planet. Her anger grows as she thinks of the price she has paid, both now and in the past on that world.

A so-called civilized world on the border of the Mid Rim and the Outer Rim. A world that had lured her loved ones to their deaths and their serious injuries on two occasions, now.

She thinks of Fulcrum and her pain at the injury to her family. Especially the Corellian who now floats in one of the bacta tanks. Lassa thinks of the joy that the two had taken in the fact that they were in close proximity to one another, rather than having to hold out for snatched time together three or four times a year. _When they weren't fighting for their lives._ A hunt-sister and hunt-brother in the culture of the Hunt on Ahsoka's world.

Two Jedi survivors, one with only spotty abilities, the other a powerful warrior who had never been knighted.

She sits in a chair by the bed, as she contemplates what that 'civilized' world had taken from her. The mists of memory intrude into her mind unbidden as her eyes close.

**Yondu**  
**19 BBY**

The bound figure is brought out before the jeering crowds. He is clad in gray prison fatigues. An onlooker, who knows nothing of the circumstances of what is about to happen, would remark on how the man makes even his drab surroundings and raiment look elegant. His head is held high and he looks on the assemblage with a note of wry humor in his dark eyes. His hair, normally long and well coiffed, is cut short and close to his skull, so that it will not interfere with today's evolution.

An evolution that will send him into the next world by judicial order.

No fear shows in his eyes. An armored clone trooper of the Galactic government, sent to support the government of this world, takes his bound arm to move him to the center of the platform.

The prisoner deliberately, but without malice, frees his arm from the soldier's grasp.

Constables move in to surround him for the last few steps. A well-fed and prosperous example, dressed in a fine silk robe, smirks at the man's plight.

The prisoner ignores him. Even in his prisoner's clothing and bare feet, all but the slowest of the audience can tell that he is the more noble of the two.

Mal Dolros smiles as he sees a familiar sight in the crowd. A small group, standing near the rear of the crowd. 

One tall figure stands upright in front. A pair of young, but wise bronze eyes stare out from a beautiful blue face. The face and the lavender braid are hidden under an old robe and hood. He cannot see her hands, but he knows that one hand rests on her worn, but well-cared-for A180 blaster.

His smile widens as his own dark eyes catch hers. He shakes his head, then rolls his eyes as she starts to move her way through the crowd. He manages to catch the eye of another familiar face. A pair of hazel eyes stare at him from a purple-hued face. Two lekku can be seen twitching under the hood.

The Constable in the rich robes begins to speak. "Mal Dolros of Naboo. You have been found guilty by the _Impirteu_ of crimes against commerce on Yondu. Specifically, two counts of Piracy. This is punishable by death by hanging, under our laws." The crowd grows hushed as the import of what the well-fed official has said. The carnival atmosphere diminishes. The Yondun smiles, in what he thinks is a benevolent manner.

He doesn't quite bring it off. "We might see our way to be merciful, if you name the rest of your co-conspirators on our world and tell us where to find your fellow pirates, Dolros."

"So, I get to go free? It just all a big ol' misunderstanding?" Mal says in a dry voice. 

The smile grows less benevolent. "No. On the contrary. It just means you'll get to watch them dance at the end of good Yondun cord, just before we put a blaster bolt in your head."

"In that case, High Constable, if you can find it, underneath the rolls of blubber, then you can go kriff yourself."

"So be it, Dolros. You have been a thorn in our side long before you lost that election as Captain." He signals to his assistants. They move Mal to a specific spot, marked by a circle. He looks up as he sees movement. A cord, fashioned into a noose descends from the top of the building adjacent to the platform.

A tall Constable, garbed and hooded in black, walks up and fits the noose over the pirate's head and cinches it tight. The High Constable walks closer and seizes his jaw. "It is a pity that your former quartermaster is not here to join you. She deserves this as much or more than you do, since she beat you in the election. I would love to see how well she dances while she strangles."

Dolros looks over the official's shoulder. He see a commotion at the edge of the crowd as several hooded figures struggle with one other. He smiles as he sees the closest thing he has had to a daughter struggle to get to him.

_To save him._

Without a word, he draws his foot back and brings it between the legs of the High Constable. The crowd roars. The official drops Mal's jaw and clutches himself, bleating and sinking to his knees. "Kill him! Do it now!"

Mal Dolros focuses on the small group moving out of the crowd. _Live my girl._ Live, he thinks as he feels the cord tighten.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa Rhayme, Captain of the pirate vessel _Opportunity,_ and the leader of the feared group known as the Blood Bone Order, struggles against her crew as she sees her gunner with the cord around his neck.

A gunner who had once been the Captain. A Captain who had taken a chance on a nineteen year old waif, who had already watched another crew die at the ends of a cord.

"Let me go, you assholes," she screams. Her crew looks nervously, as the crowd is starting to notice over the din. "We have to save him."

"We can't, Captain," says Thyla Secura, her navigator. "With those clones they brought in from the Republic, we wouldn't get two meters."

"Come on, you cowards," the Captain continues, "He would risk it for you." They hear the roll of a drum.

Thyla Secura makes a decision. She looks Lassa in the eye. "Forgive, me, Lassa," she whispers. The Twi'lek navigator draws back her right fist and punches Lassa in the face. 

The Pantoran's eyes go wide and she sways. Thyla curses softly and punches her again. 

It is enough, as the young woman slumps to the ground. Two other crewmembers grab her and start to make their way to the stolen freighter that brought them to this world. They bind her hands for good measure and remove her blaster and two knives.

Thyla turns back to the platform. She owes it to the man who is the center of attention.

He smiles as he catches her eye. The smile is fixed as the cord draws him off of the platform and up. She turns away. She cannot watch the dance.


	2. 1. My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don't Love the Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shots and ale on Ord Mantell. A job is taken.

Asajj Ventress runs her hand through her short hair. Her ice-chip blue eyes look out at the denizens of the outdoor watering hole. She squints against the bright lights as she downs another shot of well whiskey. She feels the comforting, but unfamiliar weight of her recently purchased lightsaber on her hip. 

It has been years since she had carried a single blade. She ruefully thinks about her former paired, crimson blades. Blades now apparently the property of the Jedi, after that second Jedi brat, Offee had attacked her, stolen her blades, and framed her as a terrorist.

A terrorist working with Ahsoka Tano, another, more familiar Jedi brat. She clinches her teeth as she thinks of the young woman. A young woman who she had fought side by side with for her life against the charges of murder. 

She shakes her head at the thought. Tano had promised that she would get a pardon for Ventress if she was able to prove her innocence. Instead, the Dathomiri stood accused with her. Even though the young Togruta had managed to avoid execution, a pardon for an ex-enemy was not high on her priorities.

Rumor had it that Tano had left the Jedi. Left them behind, just like they had left their own Padawan behind. Left her to die in front of a wall, while her beloved clones fired a volley into her. _By order of the Senate of the Galactic Republic._

The young woman, whose plight had struck a chord with the hardened ex-Sith, had not had time to get the pardon before she had vanished.

Her bantha of a master, who had discovered the link that had ultimately freed her, didn't even answer Ventress's calls.

She remembers with a slight feeling of triumph at the look of shocked realization on his scarred face, when she had told him that he was no better than Dooku, when it came to protecting and then abandoning his apprentice.

She signals for another shot and drains her ale. As she lowers her right hand, it rests on another unfamiliar weight on her hip. She is contemptuous. _Oh, how the mighty Sith have fallen. Having to use a blaster as a weapon._

She does smile wistfully at the disassembled weapon in a pack on her back. The other weapon of her heritage.

She forgets Tano, her own masters' abandonment, even the betrayal of Savage. The death of her sisters on Dathomir still cuts her to the bone. The use of the primary weapon of a Nightsister, the energy bow, had eased the pain a bit at first. She remembers finding the bow for sale in an Outer Rim junk shop.

Of her anger at the betrayal of her heritage. Of the threats to the owner and dismantlement of the shop. Of leaving with the bow in her hands. She remembers looking at the bow for hours. Of touching the Force and trying to see something of the owner of the bow. Of the remnants of a murdered sister. A sister most probably slaughtered because she had sought refuge with her coven.

Her drinks arrive. She drops the shot in the ale and downs it in one quaff. She smiles and touches the pack. She had never been able to see anything of the owner, just as she could feel nothing of the yellow-bladed saber she had found.

It did not stop her from looking on the bow with something that she had not felt in years.

Something akin to the love that she had felt for her sisters on that one night before Grievous arrived and her world ended, yet again.

Asajj Ventress curses her streak of sentimentality. She is a bounty hunter. She has to eat, to drink, and she has to fuel her new ship, a nice pursuit craft that she had named the _Banshee._

She drops a small handful of coins on the table. As she does, she wonders what has become of Tano. _Skywalker's filthy pet._ A young woman who each time that they had faced each other over blades and snark had grown in both. It had taken Ventress all that she had to survive the encounter with the young woman on the Stardestroyer, attempting to end the problem of Nute Gunray.

She smiles. _That was even before the Mirialan Jedi, Unduli had joined in._

She starts to stand. It was almost time for the update to the bounty hunter boards across the square. She wanted to be there early to see if she could grab an easy job to pay for fuel.

A shadow falls across the table. Her hands stray to both open weapons.

A human male sits down across from her. A cocky grin spreads across the human's features. The grin bears no warmth; his eyes crinkle in the dying sun of Ord Mantell. As she stares into his eyes, she starts as something looks familiar. 

The green eyes bear no warmth either. She nods gently, remembering a Corellian Padawan on his homeworld. Her side twinges from the memories of lightsaber wounds from the bearer of another, almost opposite temperature of these green eyes looking at her from across the table. She smirks. The spacer's clothing and the twin chromite DL-44 XTs scream _Corellian._

"Been looking for you, darling. You are hard to find," he says.

"You found me. Now what?"

"Got a proposition for you. Might be a lot of money in it for you," he says.

"Yeah?" she says. "What makes you think that I might be interested?"

"The fact that you had to scramble to pull the coins out for your drinks. The fact that that sweet new ship of yours is only one step from being impounded for non-payment of docking fees." His eyes darken. "That fact that you are trying to get away from me so you can go get some pissant bounty from Rollo's."

Asajj stares at him with her silver-blue eyes. "So you are here to take me away from all of this?" she asks. She looks him up and down. He laughs. He holds up his left hand. A gold ring marks his third finger. "Sorry, dear. Married. I would have to see if my partner might allow me to, uh... how shall I put it? Explore?"

"What does your partner look like?" Asajj asks, warming to the game. "Well-armed," he says with a brief grin.

"So am I." He shakes his head. "As much as I would like to continue this, my dear, I am on a kind of a time clock. You interested?"

She waves her hand. The Corellian pulls out a small holoprojector. A corpulent human with waxy features stares out at her. She looks closer beneath his mortarboard hat. Very small lekku can be seen hanging from the back of his head, through his wavy gray hair. The lekku twitch just as Twi'leks do in the holo.

"He is half-Yondun near-human, and half-Yondun Twi'lek. That is beside the point. He has pissed off the rest of his government. Enough that they have placed a silent bounty on him."

The witch's eyes narrow. _A silent bounty._ A way to get rid of enemies, but recognized by certain worlds' bounty laws. A way to get rid of political adversaries. Something that had slipped through from the archaic laws of the Old Republic; the Senate apparently had better things to do than close the loophole.

_Like making sure young women lay in front of walls with their chests blown out._ She angrily shakes her head to dispel the past.

"So what is your interest?" Asajj asks. 

"Not mine. My employers."

"Okay. We can keep playing this game, Corellian until I get tired and decide to go to Rollo's. Or you can come clean and fucking tell me what I need to know to do the job." Her eyes grow even harder. "If I decide to take it."

His own eyes grow hard. They stare at each other. Finally, the Corellian nods. "My employers are having a business meeting with him. It would be advantageous if he is taken during that meeting. It might give them some leverage with a party that he represents."

Asajj weighs what he says. "Don't know if I do assassinations, or not, dear." _Not anymore, at least._

"No. Strictly retrieval. Clap him in irons and take him back to his people. What happens after that is not really your concern."

"So what is the bounty?"

"Quarter-million. You get a quarter. I get a quarter. My employers get half."

"Nope. I get half."

"Guess we'll need to find somebody else. Somebody who is hungry for ten thousand to get her ship out of hock."

"Not hungry enough to take ten thousand out of my fee. I'll take the quarter percentage, but somebody pays my docking fee. Up front. Look at it as an expense, handsome." 

The Corellian is silent. He nods. 

Asajj smiles. She feels another emotion she hasn't felt in a while. A small triumph. "Where, when, and who?" she asks.

"Naboo. Just as soon as you get out of hyperspace. Who, is a bit more...problematic."

Asajj raises her eyebrow. "Nobody knows his name. He has been known by his title for nearly thirty years. Guess he is pretty tied to it."

"They call him the High Constable of Yondu."

~+~+~+~+~+

The Corellian watches the witch leave. He smiles. "Is she like you remember?" he says to the air. 

A figure at the next table turns to him. She pulls her hood down and walks over to him. She grasps his dark hair and pulls his face to hers. They other clientele watch fascinated as their lips meld for several moments. As they pull away, he thinks of how similar her eyes are to the Dathomiri witch that had just left. Ice-chip blue eyes, but inset in an olive green face. A face with a diagonal quadruple row of small diamonds tattooed across the face. Bright red hair completes the look.

Separatist cogs rest on the shoulders of her armor. "Yep. Just not as intense. Seems to have grown soft."

"You might be underestimating her. Because of your Seppie past."

"Nope. It will make it easier."

She kisses him again. "Sorry you won't get to ride her, dear. She might've been fun."

"As soon as she does the heavy lifting, we will kill her. The Antols want all loose ends tied up. Not just Fatso, there." the woman says. 

Jaze Stane says nothing. His wife smiles. "We bring that head to Serreno or Raxus; I might just get back into Dooku's good graces."

Her eyes grow pensive as she remembers. Leve Stane, once known as Commander Leve Agee of the Confederacy of Independent Systems Military Intelligence, recalls her past. 

A past that might be her future again.


	3. 2. Nobody Speaks to the Captain No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pirate staff meetings on the _Opportunity._

Thyla Secura sits in the co-pilot's chair of a pirate vessel. Her hazel eyes look at the stars, but they are not at the forefront of her mind.

A small urn resting in the gunnery spaces, as well as her Captain, who has not been seen since they had returned from Yondu, claim her thoughts.

Thyla had paid a local to claim Mal's ashes; they had moved out soon after they had taken possession.

One step ahead of the Constable's officers.

She stands up. Her eyes look contemptuously at the Mirialan male sprawled in Lassa's command chair. She kicks the quartermaster's feet off of the back of her chair. Tahlen's dark eyes flash at her. He stands up and looks down at her. "You know that you could be replaced, Navigator."

She smiles. "Just because our Captain takes you between her legs on a regular basis, doesn't really mean you actually have any power, bud." she says, her eyes lancing him."What makes you think that you're the only one that gets taken there?" she finishes.

"What do you mean?" he asks incredulously. "Been there many times. In fact; I get off shift, I might be going there again." His eyes lock on hers. After a moment, he turns on his heel and leaves the bridge.

"You really shouldn't needle him like that, sister," a dry voice says from the plotting table. She turns and smiles warmly at her twin.

Her very tall and blue twin.

"I know, love. But it gives me joy. Dare I say, even pleasure?"

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Going to see her."

Thyla looks down."Probably not. I don't think she wants to see me. I am surprised I haven't been booted off of the ship."

Thorin smiles and walks over to her. He takes her in his arms. Her face rests against his breastbone. He reaches down and pulls her cap off. He kisses her between her lekku. The purple-hued lekku twitch contentedly.

"That is Blurrg-poodoo," he says quietly. "She loves you like a sister." He smirks. "A sister that she likes to occasionally sleep with."

"Yeah, well. Little more than occasionally." She reaches up and kisses him on his chin. Their lekku twine together. _As family._

"You do need to go see her, Thy," he says. "I am sure that she sees that you did what you had to do as the senior officer besides her."

"Rin, I hit her. Twice. I took the option of fighting for Mal away from her. I don't think she will ever forgive me for that."

"I think that you are wrong, babe. You saw how all of you were nearly captured when you claimed his remains. You would've all been strangling on those cords."

She says nothing. He turns to a young Nikto on the bridge who is trying to ignore everything but his console.

A console that oversees exactly one system. "Watch the bridge. We'll be one call away if you need, Mr. Gri." The young crewman's eyes widen. Thyla smiles. "Yes, you can sit in the command chair."

As they leave, the new officer-of-the deck sits in the chair. _All is right with the world._

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa Rhayme stares at the filling tub. She pulls the glass of whisky to her lips and pulls a sip. Her eyes tear as she thinks of her last sight of Dolros. Her Captain. She smiles. _Her gunner._

She knows that he would be kicking her ass right now. She had not left the cabin since they had returned.

She had mostly sat and wondered why the hell she was still doing this.

_Don't kid yourself. What the hell would you do, Rhayme? You're not much good at anything else._

She downs her drink. She stands as she realizes that the tub is full. She turns and walks back into the cabin for the bottle.

Thyla and Thorin Secura stand there in the middle of the deck. Lassa takes a deep breath. She brushes past them and walks to the sideboard. She picks up the bottle of Tevraki and turns to walk back into the 'fresher.

Thorin rolls his eyes and seizes her by her shoulders. Her eyes flash and her teeth clinch. He turns her towards him. He reaches down and kisses her on her forehead.

He holds her. "Captain," he says. "I don't think Mal would want you to hole up in your cabin. He didn't just pull you off of that mining world because of your charm, as you both have told us."

"Maybe he should've left me there," she says evenly.

"Maybe so. But he didn't. He chose you to have the lives of his crew in your hands. Something he didn't take lightly."

"Are you two here for a reason?"

"We came here for a bath," he says with a smirk. Lassa rolls her eyes. She breaks free and walks to the 'fresher. Thorin follows.

Thyla stands where she is, looking at her feet. Lassa opens the door and pushes Thorin in. She turns and looks at her navigator. "Well, come on. Thy." Her eyes narrow. "Unless you have any more punches in you."

Thyla silently walks behind the Pantoran.

~+~+~+~+~+

For the first time in weeks, Lassa Rhayme relaxes. Both twins watch her as she lays back in the tub opposite them. All three of them sip whiskey and think about Mal Dolros. Lassa as a beloved mentor; the Twi'leks as a wise counselor who had advised Lassa to take a chance on the siblings - two orphans born in space and born to fly and navigate.

They are all quiet as they remember, as the steam wafts around them. Thyla looks at Thorin. He nods.

"Captain," he starts. "Lassa, we have something we need to tell you. About Mal's capture." He looks down at the water. "About his death."

Lassa's bronze eyes grow sharp. Both siblings can see her anger rise. "What?" she spits out.

Thorin takes a sip of his drink; then takes a deep breath. "A guy I know on Yondu contacted me while I was there afterwards. He is partnered with a clerk in the _Impirteu_ \- the legislative and criminal court."

Lassa listens patiently. "He said that they were tipped off about Mal going there to negotiate some of our goods."

"How did they connect it with Mal's capture?"

"It happened only a day before the Constable's office moved on him. Plus, there is something more," he says. Throughout his recitation, his normally subdued Twi'lek accent comes to the fore.

Lassa waits patiently. Thyla finds she is holding her breath. "The transmission went directly to the High Constable." He moves over and places his large hand on the Captain's cheek. "It originated on Tatooine. Mos Espa."

Lassa closes her eyes. _The Hutts._

Her mind flies to the many times she has refused to work for the crime-slugs. _Did her....?_

"No."

A light, sharply accented voice speaks. "Don't even think that, woman," Thyla says, hazel meeting bronze. "You don't get to pull this on your shoulders. That fat son of a bitch killed our friend. Whoever sent that transmission killed our friend. You didn't. You kept us free. You're still keeping us free."

Lassa says nothing in response. "There may be someone else responsible. Someone closer to us," Thorin says. He drops his hand from Lassa's cheek. He steels himself.

"There was a transmission in the comm logs from _Opportunity._ Just before Mal left for Yondu."

The color drains from Lassa's cerulean face. "Let me guess. It went to Mos Espa."

Thorin can only nod. "Any idea who?" Thyla asks her brother.

"No. But I have a couple of good candidates."

"Thorin, if this is about Tahlen again...."

"Dammit, Captain, when are you going to see it?"

Lassa slumps. Thyla moves to her side and takes her in her arms. After a moment, Lassa pushes her away, gently. "You said a couple. Who is the other?"

"Your favorite useless engineer."

"Geikha? I wouldn't think he had the brains."

"Never underestimate a Dug."

Lassa comes to a decision. "Thorin. Can you go to Tatooine? Maybe dig around and figure out who targeted Mal?" She looks him in the eye. "No' is an answer, sweetie."

"Yes. I want to find out if someone is targeting us," he says, without hesitation. He stands in the tub. Lassa looks at him appreciatively. "You be careful, Stretch," she whispers. "I can't mourn another of my crew from these assholes." He nods and bends down. Their lips touch for a brief moment.

"You need to heal, Captain. Do what you need to, but heal." He grins. "I give you my sister, if that will help."

Lassa laughs for what seems to the other two for the first time in weeks. She looks at the two siblings fondly. Thorin holds her gaze, then nods and climbs out of the tub.

Thyla rests her head on Lassa's shoulder. She is pensive; her eyes distant. "Say it, Thy," Lassa whispers against her forehead.

"Are we okay, Lassa?" she asks.

She feels Lassa's smile against skin. "Wondered if we would get there, Navigator."

Thyla sits up. She runs her fingers over the double bruise on the Pantoran's jaw. "You did what you had to do, Thy. You weighed the tough choice and chose my crew's lives over your captain's fragile ego. Even over your job."

She kisses the Twi'lek's left lek. "We will always, be okay, Thylas'ecura. Her lips move to the Twi'lek's for a brief second. Thyla replaces her fingers on the bruised jaw with her own lips. She rests her head on Lassa's shoulder again.

"Thy," Lassa says. "Mmhh?" the navigator asks."I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Captain," Thyla says.

"I need you to take Mal to Naboo and scatter him. I don't think I can do it. He has no family but us, but he loved his world. Even though it turned its back on him."

"Are you sure you want me to do this, Lassa?"

"I am. He does have some distant cousins there, still. The Vorserries. They might want to hear that he was loved and had a family. Don't know."

Thyla nods, her eyes soft.

"Lassa?" she says. "Yeah?"

"Can I stay with you tonight? I could use some company."

The pirate captain smiles. "Won't be much good if you're looking for a good time. I'm kind of a mess right now."

"Don't have to be. Just want company."

Without a further word, Thyla pulls Lassa to her chest and holds her tightly.

Within moments, the feared Lassa Rhayme, head of the Blood Bone Order, scourge of the Outer Rim, is snoring gently against her navigator's chest.

Thyla smiles as she makes sure that neither one of them will slip beneath the water.


	4. 3. That's My Story and I'm Sticking To It

Thyla Secura takes a deep breath and looks down at herself. She hopes that the flight jacket adds a bit of class to her tank top and spacer's trousers. She knocks on the door of the beautiful, but modest house. A cacophony of barking is heard from the back of the house. "Chief! Goddammit! Settle down! Shut up!" a deep voice yells.

The door opens. A gangly teenager, a girl of about fifteen, stands looking at her expectantly. Thyla looks up at her. The girl is not quite as tall as her brother, but easily is taller than Lassa, who is not a small woman.

She looks at Thyla with expectant dark eyes. Thyla smirks at what she is holding in her hands.

A small, ornamental, but deadly blaster. Disassembled. A greasy cloth is stuck in the waistband of her shorts. A metal brush sticks out from the top of her tank top.

The Twi'lek smiles at the sight. "Hello. Is this the Vorserrie residence?"

The teenager smirks. "Yes. Most everybody in the neighborhood could tell you you're in the right place, between the luxury rescue center for stray animals and children and the occasional loud parties." Her eyes narrow. "Except for the asshole next door," she says darkly.

"Of course, there must be something about beautiful girls opening the door while cleaning an ELG-3a," Thyla says, laughing.

The blaster technician grins sheepishly. Thyla decides that it and the blush will ensure that this one breaks someone's heart someday.

"My name is Thyla. I have some information about a distant relative of yours, I think." She looks down. The burden in her bag grows heavier. "It is not good news."

The young woman nods. "Come on in. I'll get my dad."

Thyla walks in. She takes the proffered seat.

She looks around the front room. An unpretentious room, with love and laughter prevalent in the holos scattered around the room. She hears footsteps. A tall man, but one that will still be dwarfed by who she assumes is his daughter, walks into the room. He is dressed in work clothes and gives the impression of someone who has made his living with his hands. He holds his hand out, his dark eyes smiling, even before his mouth does. "Polden Vorserrie," he says. She takes his hand and doesn't wince at the unassuming strength in the grip. "Thyla Secura," she says.

"My daughter says that you have news of a relative?"

"Yes. Malston Dolros." She says. His eyes grow distant. He smiles wistfully. "Haven't heard that name in a while."

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but he...died."

"When?" Vorserrie says. "About a week ago. On Yondu."

The dark eyes lock on hers and sharpen. "Well, young lady, that is a neat trick, since he died years ago." Her eyes widen.

"You have a picture of this man that you call my cousin?" She nods and punches a button on her comm. A holo image springs to life above the device. A smiling, laughing representation of the man that she knew.

Vorrserrie looks at the holo. His eyes crinkle in a sad smile. "That looks like him, but isn't him. That is his older brother. Felton. He left around the time Mal died." His face grows grim. "Mal died in an accident. Felt blamed himself, even though nobody else did."

His eyes grow distant, as if remembering the accident. "How did he die?" Polden asks.

She is silent. "Mr. Vorserrie...." He shakes his head. "Call me Pold. You don't have to answer. Felt was always the adventurous one of the bunch."

"Does he have any immediate family?" she asks. Pold shakes his head. "No. No one that would claim him. I am the only one that looked for him after he left." He looks down at the bag. "You have him, don't you?"

She nods, her eyes tracking downward. "I'll take him. I have a place for him. Where we scattered his brother. Think it would be right."

Thyla's eyes tear as she pulls the urn out of the bag. She notices Vorrserrie's daughter has re-assembled her blaster and laid it aside. She walks over and hugs her father to her as he takes the urn.

"Thank you, Thylas'ecura," he says, with the correct inflection. "Thank you for bringing him home to us." He starts as he remembers something. "Will you stay for dinner? We would love to have you."

"Thank you, Pold, but no." she replies. "I have to get back to my ship."

He nods. "I understand." He looks lovingly at his daughter. "This is No-no's last night, as well. She is heading on a relief mission, as part of her training as a Queen's handmaiden. To some little garden spot that a bunch of our troops have already died over in the Outer Rim."

"A place called Z'ambique."

Thyla looks at the young woman clinging to her father. She smiles at them.

_Apparently, Mal or Felt, or whatever the hell his name was, wasn't the only adventurous one._

~+~+~+~+~+

Thorins'ecura looks out at the bright light of the twin suns of the desolate world. He sits in an outdoor cantina, sipping an iced drink.

He smirks. _You'd think that a son of Ryloth could take a little heat,_ he thinks as he places some of the ice against his skin. _Tell that to a son of Ryloth who was born in the cold of space, and except for a brief time in an orphanage on Coruscant has spent his life there._

So far, he had drank about fourteen of these iced drinks over the past three days. Had paid for it with a similar number of trips to the 'fresher, per day.

He had also, so far spent the night with at least a couple of dancers who might get him some information about the Hutts and their dealings. A contract Bith musician was greased with more traditional currency.

Thorin grins as a particular informant makes eye contact with him. Leilin, a red Lethan Twi'lek from the north of Ryloth, jerks his head to a small room in the back of the cantina. Thorin finishes his drink and saunters behind him.

They enter the darkened room. Leilin turns to Thorin and brings his lips to his own. Their tongues meet as their lekku twine. He looks over at the bed. The dancer's twin, a Rutian, much like Thorin, is already in the bed, the covers drawn up to her waist. _Ahh, twins and their sharing._

His eyes track over Leilin's shoulders as the dancer's hands move down to his belt-buckle.

Thorin's eyes move up Leilina's body to her eyes.

Eyes filled with fear. Thorin's own eyes widen. Movement to his left plays over the corner of his vision. A pair of red eyes stare out at him.

Red eyes against blue skin. Red eyes under a ridiculously large hat.

He shoves the dancer at the extra occupant and crabs backwards out of the room. His hand goes for his blaster at his waist, but he realizes that was the belt buckle that the dancer had been fondling.

_Shit. You're always distracted by a pretty face or two. Thyla said it was my weakness._

He smirks. _Not exactly something that she is resistant to._

He abandons the blaster belt and pulls his backup, a Blurgg-1120 from his boot. He opens fire in the general direction of his assailant. He nods as he sees the twins managing to find cover.

He rushes out into the main cantina and charges through to the exterior. He stops short, looking both ways.

He chooses the path to the right, shoving his way through the crowds. _Guess that I can circle back around to the runabout._

His long legs pump as he makes his stride. He yells a quick 'sorry' to the Jawa that he kicks out of his way.

A part of him is regretful that the several hours acquiring information from the twins didn't pan out.

In the wake of the chaos, the tall Duros walks out of the cantina. He sees the patterns of the crowd; how they have dispersed. He pulls a match out and lights his spice-stick and draws deeply. His red eyes focus more as he sets off, his long coat trailing behind him.

Cad Bane gives his closest approximation to a smile. _Hunting a pretty-boy Twi'lek is a welcome change from fighting Jedi and killing politicians. At least I am back in Jabba's good graces._

Bane increases the speed of his amble down the streets of Mos Espa. Unlike the previous pedestrian, he has no problems with others getting out of his way.

The crowds part like a sea from the old canon.

~+~+~+~+~+

Thyla Secura crosses the broad thoroughfare that the Naboo are so fond of. She had returned to Theed from the Vorrserrie's suburban home and was now walking to the docking bay where the small freighter was located that Lassa used as a tender.

She smiles as she remembers the two Vorrserries that she had met briefly. The young woman, so poised, as she cleaned her weapon and prepared for her new adventure. The father, his eyes kind and nostalgic as she brought back memories for him. Memories of the past, as well as concern for the future. The future of his soon-to-be Handmaiden. The protector of their Queen.

Thyla draws up, her purple lekku twitching as certain sounds reach her earcones. She unsnaps the retaining strap on her blaster as she continues to walk. Without hesitation, she drops the bag that she had brought their gunner's ashes to his home, into a trashcan.

Her hands are now unencumbered. She smirks as she remembers the girl known as No-no's deft hands as she disassembled and reassembled her blaster in record time. Even though the weapon was pretty and delicate, it was known to pack a punch.

Idly, as she listened for those sounds that had caused her to go on high alert, she wondered how well the girl was at shooting the thing, not just cleaning it.

The navigator moves quickly, just as a blaster bolt strikes the wall behind her. She whirls and draws her weapon and returns fire in the direction of the bolt.

More bolts begin to fly in her direction. She changes direction and streaks across the street to a covered doorway. As she does, she realizes her mistake as three thugs step out from the doorway. The three blasters track up to her middle. She can see the fingers tightening on the triggers.

There is an almost silent burst of tripartite light as the three gunsels fold in their middles; three separate bright bolts of energy striking them.

The bolts almost hang in their stomachs before dissipating. She spins. A tall woman, with a shock of short, white-blonde hair stands there, a bow-like weapon held at the vertical. The woman's ice-blue eyes stir a memory. "Come on, sweet-tails. You have worn out your welcome. Let's go." The woman's lips, with their tattoos near the corners, quirk upward. "Lassa must be around somewhere, if you're here, Secura," the fighter says, her hissing sibilance familiar.

Thyla Secura turns and follows Asajj Ventress without a word.

Hoping against hope that Lassa had built enough goodwill with the woman on their one job together.

Another woman with similar ice-blue eyes watches from a rooftop as the two run to safety. Her eyes narrow as she considers how her new employee is sticking her aquiline nose in places where it shouldn't be.


	5. 4. You'll Never Work in this Bidness Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asajj Ventress learns that she has stepped in the poodoo by rescuing Thyla Secura. Her employers are not amused.

Thyla Secura follows the bounty hunter through the winding alleyways. She searches her memory for the last time that she and Ventress had crossed path; only a few weeks before. Lassa had planned to attack a freighter; she had heard that there were rich pickings. Much to her surprise, when she had jumped in; she had only found wreckage of the fighter and small gunboat screen. One damaged ship and a wounded Dathomiri bounty hunter. Rather than turning and leaving her to die, Lassa had taken the bounty hunter aboard and healed both her and her ship. 

An unlikely partnership had arisen when they had agreed to help each other. Lassa, bent on taking the rich prize, had enlisted the aid of Ventress, in exchange for one item on the ship.

A partnership that had chagrined the great Hondo Ohnaka, who had taken the ship. Perhaps even humbled him for awhile.

As well as acting as a catalyst of a embryonic friendship between two women who do not make friends easily. A friendship, or an _acquaintance,_ based on mutual respect and skill.

She realizes with a start that Asajj was leading her away from her own docking bay, to another in the opposite direction. "Hey, witch," she says. "Where the hell are we going?" She sees the woman's shoulders tighten.

"To the _Banshee,_ sweet-tails. If they were after you, it is a good bet that they know where your ship is." Thyla makes a noncommittal noise. "Don't call me witch. As much as would love the possibility of seeing more of your pretty ass, as well as that of your brother, I won't hesitate to leave it here if you vex me. In spite of what I might owe your boss."

Thyla digests this. They turn into a shabby docking bay. Thyla smiles in recognition of the disk sitting in the middle. "Still a sweet-looking ship," she remarks. She feels the Dathomiri smile as well. "Yep. Home sweet home. Come on. We'll discuss why the hell those assholes were trying to kill you." The smile morphs into a smirk. "In spite of the obvious - your boss's sparkling personality."

The two women climb into the ship. They sit on the deck of the sparsely furnished hold. "How is Lassa?" Asajj asks as she pulls two chipped cups out of a tiny cupboard. Thyla grins as she sees the logos of two different diners on them. She watches as Asajj pulls a bottle from the same cupboard and splashes a dollop into each of the cups.

She sees Thyla's pensive expression. "She is hurting, right now. We lost the man who was basically her mentor on Yondu a few days ago." Asajj's brows rise at the mention of the planet. "What happened?"

Thyla drinks. "He was hanged by the government. A fat, corrupt piece of poodoo made sure of it."

Asajj is silent for a while, as she weighs her options. "Was this fat corrupt piece of poodoo a halfbreed Twi'lek? Called the High Constable or some-such bullshit?"

It is Thyla's turn for her lekku to twitch in surprise. "One and the same. How do you know him?"

"He is the reason I am on Naboo to pull your lekku out of the shit." Asajj says. "I took a job to bring him in on a bounty. A bounty arranged by his fellow government assholes."

Thyla looks thoughtful as she hears this. "Well, it is nice to know that he is so well-loved," she finally says, dryly. She looks at the bounty hunter. "You want some help, love? I've finished what Lassa sent me here to do." Her eyes track downward as she remembers the simple urn. 

"I work alone, dear." Ventress struggles to find the unfamiliar words of gratitude. "Besides, I can't pay you. I've got some debts to pay."

Thyla pats her hand. Ventress almost flinches, but forces herself to relax at the warmth shown. "I think that Lassa would be okay with me helping you for free, on this one," she says quietly. 

The bounty hunter is thoughtful for a moment. "On second thought, you might be useful. I can't exactly be seen this close to the Core. You could be my eyes, especially as I get close to grabbing him."

Thyla smiles. "I think I can do that. I am wanted, but it is mostly in the Outer Rim." The smile transforms a bit. "You know that we all look alike." 

Ventress rolls her eyes. As she is about to reply, a pounding starts on the entry ramp. "Ventress! You in there? We need to talk," a voice yells.

Thyla's eyes lock on the look of recognition. Ventress places her finger on her lips and jerks her head to the back. The Twi'lek nods and moves. 

The bounty hunter walks to the entry port. She takes a deep breath and opens the hatch. 

Jaze Stane stands there. 

"You really can stick your nose in the shit, darling," he says.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa Rhayme sits in her chair on the bridge of the Opportunity. Her quartermaster, Tahlen had insisted on installation of the chair, just aft of the pilot and co-pilot seats.

 _Probably because he can't fly for shit._ Lassa had always preferred to be sitting in the pilot's chair, where she could control everything.

She only used the "captain's chair" in moments like these. When she needed to think. 

Primarily, she was thinking of the selfsame quartermaster. Of his distrust by the rest of the crew. Of the past way that his easy grin and devil-may-care attitude had made her laugh in dark times. Of how that same grin and attitude had begun to wear on her. Of all of her crewmembers, he had been the only one who had not even tried to express sympathy for Mal's death.

Some had been clumsy; others formulaic. All of them had been sincere. She didn't demand sympathy; had felt awkward.  
But she had not even seen her quartermaster since they had returned. 

In truth, she didn't miss him. She thinks of Thorin's words. Neither of the twins had any regard for him; they had usually found a way to circumvent his orders if they weren't countersigned by her.

In point of fact, they were the ones who truly ran the crew and ship if she had to be absent. 

Lassa Rhayme stands up. She has the look on her face of someone who is quickly coming to a decision.

She exits the bridge. As she does, she smiles at the young Nikto crewmember. She jerks her thumb at the chair.

Once again, he finds himself sitting in the command chair, letting his imagination run wild.

Never imagining the turmoil in his captain's mind.

~+~+~+~+~+

"What do you want, Stane? Checking up on me?" Ventress says, an edge to her voice. "Didn't think that I had to, until you stuck your goddamned nose where it didn't belong," he replies.

"What are you talking about?" she says. 

"I'm talking about you disrupting another operation. A certain purple Twi'lek that you apparently helped escape."

Ventress looks at him squarely. "So? Saw a woman being assaulted. Decided to help her. That was it."

"Really. From what I hear, you were pretty chummy with her."

"Is there a point to all of this, Stane?"

"Yeah. That Twi'lek piece is key to another operation. Another client is looking for her brother. He is highly interested in some missing spice money. A lot of missing spice money that he stole."

"So?"

"So, you don't want to piss off a Hutt. If you know where this slut is, you might want to come clean."

"Wouldn't know. Like I said, I saw a woman being attacked by a bunch of assholes; didn't like what I saw. We parted ways after that." She smirks. "Got her commcode, but that is about it."

"You might want to call her. Tell her to turn herself in. Might go easier for her." His eyes lock with hers. "And you."  
"You know, you might just want to get the hell off of my ship. I don't like being threatened in my home."

"Well, I could look at it as mine now, seeing that I paid your docking fees."

Asajj is silent for a moment. "Get out." she says. "I don't take to threats very kindly."

He is silent. "I think that I am done here. By the way. Apparently your mark got cold feet. He isn't coming to Naboo. We'll need you to find him, now."

"That will cost you more," she replies. "How about I don't put a blaster bolt between those intriguing eyes?"

He falls silent and takes a step back as a lightsaber ignites; its yellow blade touching the tip of his nose. He had not seen her hands move to take the blade from her belt. "Better men than you have tried, darling," she says. "Why don't you rethink that statement?"

To his credit, he doesn't flinch. He nods. "Point taken, my dear. Okay, I can probably throw you a couple of more percentage points. Three if you tell me where the Twi'lek is."

"Told you. Don't know. Don't care. Give me the three anyway, since you decided to threaten me."

After a moment, he nods tersely. "You need to not be so altruistic, Ventress. Keep your nose out of our business. This is your only warning. Might not help future jobs if we decide to blackball you."

He turns and is gone. Asajj sheathes her lightsaber. She rubs her forehead.

Thyla Secura walks out from her hiding place. "Sorry, Ventress, if I just made your life more difficult. I guess I'll go and try to make it to my ship. I need to warn Thorin. To tell Lassa."

Ventress shakes her head and looks at the navigator. "No. I still owe Lassa. Now that Chuckles hasn't shown up, I have some more freedom. Think I will take you to Ord Mantell. Where was that handsome twin of yours headed?"

"Tattooine. He got wind of Mal's betrayal being a possible inside job."

"Well, it kind of gibes with the Hutts wanting him. Sounds like it could be a setup."

Thyla nods. "I need to make some calls." 

"Let's do it from space. See if Lassa will meet us on Ord." She grins. "I am getting expenses. Kinda poetic to get you out of here using their own money."

Thyla walks over. Asajj lets the young Twi'lek take her in her arms. "Asajj, I...."

Ventress places her long finger on the navigator's lips. "No need. It's on me. Or at least him," indicating the departed Stane with a jerk of her head. She smirks again. "Besides. Maybe I can take out my fee in trade," she says, her look turning arch. "From you and your twin."

Thyla can only smile slowly as Asajj pushes her away gently.


	6. 5. Bring Back the Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bounty hunter and a pirate meet again to sow chaos in the galaxy. Or at least one small corner of it.

Lassa Rhayme slaps the source of the infernal beeping on her nightstand. She looks over with distaste at the pair of olive legs poking out from under the covers. She picks up the comm from where she had knocked it onto the floor. She looks down at herself and drags the sheet, the only remaining cover off of the Mirialan. Without further thought, she shoves him off of the bed to the floor. He lands with a thud and a yelp.

"What the hell?" he starts. "Get the fuck out," she says, her voice dangerous. He starts to protest further, but sees the dangerous light in her eyes. 

The look that appears as if she is sighting down a blaster barrel.

Mirv Tahlen quickly grabs his trousers and weapons belt and runs out. She stares thunderously at the ratty pair of underwear left behind.

She starts to drape the sheet over her breasts; thinks better of it. She snags her shirt from the bedpost and pulls it over herself.

She hits the button. A small image of Thyla Secura projects. The Twi'lek's eyes narrow at her Captain's dishabille. "Did you fuck Tahlen again?" she asks without preamble.

Lassa's eyes flash. "It's none of your business who I open my legs to, Navigator." she says.

"It is when I think you are letting your quim do your thinking for you," Thyla says, without backing down. "Rin and I have both told you, Lassa, he will hurt you, and by extension, us."

Lassa calms. "I'm assuming you called for a reason, Secura?"

"Yes. I got jumped by some thugs while taking care of your little 'favor.'

Lassa comes up in the bed. "Are you okay?" she says with concern. 

Thyla softens. "Yeah, Captain, I had some help from somebody." She smiles at Lassa's raised eyebrow. She moves aside from the pickup.

An unaccountable warmth comes over her as a familiar hissing voice comes out of a powerful, sharp-featured face. A pair of silver-blue eyes laughs at her.

"I would usually start off by asking if you were getting any. But I think we have established that you are." She smirks. "I am just not sure if you are getting any quality at all."

Lassa manages to keep the emotions off of her face. "Hey, witch," is all she says.

"Good thing I like you. Don't let many people call me that."

"I feel privileged," Lassa says.

"Could be I let you because you have a nicer than average ass."

"All talk, bog witch."

"In your dreams, gallows-bait."

As soon as she says it, Asajj wishes that she can take the words back." She shakes her head, hoping she can make it right. "I'm sorry, Lassa. I..."

_Guess I can't._

Lassa smiles. "It's okay. I think I am proud of that title. Shows that I am living."

The Dathomiri laughs, trying not to show the relief in her voice. "You are that, darling."

A dry voice interjects. "As much as I am enjoying all these warm feelings, we have a slight issue. I would be happy to spring for a room for you two, after we have solved it."

"What is it, Thyla? Lassa says. "Apparently some acquaintances of Asajj have taken a bounty on Thorin. They were after me to try and get intel."

"What the hell for?" Lassa asks incredulously. "Some Hutt spice money came up missing. Somehow they got information that Thorin was involved."

"And I sent Thorin to a Hutt world," Lassa says, her eyes closing.

"Don't, Lassa," Thyla says. 

Lassa starts to look for her trousers. "We need to get to Tatooine. Comms are down with storm activity."

"No," comes a low voice.

"What the hell do you mean, no?" she asks. Asajj looks at her. "Think with your head, dear, not your heart. I came across this information from people who hired me to find someone else. A certain overweight Yondun official. These same people have taken on the bounty for Thorin. I was hired by them on Ord Mantell. Let's rendezvous there and let me see if we can get some info." She smiles. "Got some acquaintances that can help. Then we can go blasting in."

"So, are these acquaintances expensive?" 

"No. Not really. Price may be enjoyable for one of them."

"Oookay," Lassa says. "We're changing course. May take us about a day."

"See you there, pirate."

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa pulls her shirt on and calls the bridge. The young Nikto answers. She smirks. _Getting a lot of command time._ "Set course for Ord Mantell. I'll be there in five minutes for the jump."

"Aye, Captain," he says in his earnest voice.

She is there in four minutes.

Tahlen and Geikha, the Dug chief engineer are waiting on her.

"Captain, I must protest," the engineer says in his heavily accented voice. 

"Protest and be damned, ChEng," she says without hesitation. 

"We as a crew are supposed to have a say in any course changes that might take us from profitable ventures," he says. Tahlen stands mute, his arms folded, watching her.

"You've had your say. Get back to your station and prepare to execute my orders. You both signed Articles that swear that you will protect your shipmates. Two of your shipmates are in peril," she says, her eyes turning to bronze fire.

"It could be argued that they shouldn't have been off of the ship," Tahlen says quietly.

"Oh, really, Tahlen? There is nothing in the Articles that says that I have to consult with you on sending crewmembers off the ship."

"Now you have three choices. One, pull that fancy blaster. If you do, I will put you down. Two. Call a vote. Three. Get the fuck back to your stations and do as I tell you."

Tahlen smiles his most disarming grin. She glares at him and turns away, her strong hand resting on her blaster. The Dug mutters, but turns and leaves the cockpit extension. Tahlen watches her for a moment as she walks into the conn area. 

He smiles and turns away. He doesn't really have a job to do.

Lassa smiles tenderly as the young Nikto, Gri, returns his blaster to its holster with a shaky hand from where it had rested, drawn under his console. She touches his face above the spikes. "Thank you, Mr. Gri. For your loyalty."

He speaks his first words to her. "It was my honor, Captain."

Her eyes grow pensive as she turns to the pilot's seat. Honor is a rare word used on the usual pirate vessel.

Apparently here, it is the norm, that even new crewmembers use with conviction.

~+~+~+~+~+

Thorin Secura ducks into the alley. He has managed to snag a cloak that just covers his lekku. He picks up the blaster he had lifted from a drunk in the alley two streets over and hefts it. He pulls his comm out, takes one look around. He punches the number from memory into the device. He waits for it to connect.

Lassa's face floats above the comm. "Found trouble, Captain. Big trouble."

"Yeah, I know. We're on our way to Ord Mantell to see what is going on."

"I got more immediate problems. Bounty hunter is after me. Don't know why. Please tell me Thyla is safe."

On the _Opportunity,_ Lassa's face grows even more grim. "Yeah. She is on her way to Mantell to link up."

The sound of blasterfire emits from the bridge speaker. "Gotta run, boss. Shit is hitting the intakes."

A different figure shows in Lassa's holoprojector. A tall figure in a long coat and wide-brimmed hat. Red eyes set in a blue face, over two respirator tubes. 

A Duros.

The image goes blank.

"Thorin! Stretch!"

There is only static.

~+~+~+~+~+~

Thorin curses as he returns fire. Bane calmly takes cover. Thorin runs deeper into the alley. He manages to duck into a small junk shop. As he runs through the main room, an old Toydarian coughs as he hovers over the counter. "Hey, you! What are you doing, eh?"

The tall Twi'lek ignores him as he keeps running. He drops the borrowed robe outside of the door of the shop.

He hears the rhythmic beat of a cantina. He hurtles across the street, just missing being hit by an old, chugging landspeeder. An angry dewback headbutts his hip, making him limp into the dark of the cantina. 

His eyes adjust to the light. There are several dozen patrons in the bar. He sees the laughing blue eyes of a Theelin. A broad smile flows to her lavender features. She runs her hand over his chest. "Hello handsome," she purrs. "I would really, really like to get to know your lekku a lot better."

He smiles tightly. "Some other time dear. I'll come back and rub 'em all over you." 

He moves away from her gently. He gets no more than three meters when intense pain wraps around his chest and arms.

He realizes that the woman's boa is wrapped around him tightly. He is jerked to his back. When his head clears, he is looking into the dispassionate red eyes of Cad Bane.

Everything goes dark as the barrel of a blaster strikes his temple.

Latts Razzi unfolds her boa from the Twi'lek. "We're square,right, Bane?" she asks. "Yeah," his rasping, accented voice intones, "we are square, my dear."

She nods. "I am headed back to Ord Mantell. Got a line on a job there. See you around."

Cad Bane stands looking at his prey for a good long time. Finally, he gives the Duros-equivalent of a deep sigh and grabs the collar of the thief.

As he drags him away, a heavyset human watches and notes the participants. He picks up a moth-eaten headdress of his people and places it on his head. His eyes grow soft as he watches the Twi'lek being dragged away. He picks up a battered nerf-leather jacket; a relic of a long-ago sojurn as a Republic Judicial flight officer.

He thinks of how far it is from the Separatist capital world to a Hutt planet. Of his over a year long journey,

The Twi'lek's plight strikes a chord in his memory.

Of a five Twi'lek children, of various clans, gathered around a small table. Gathered around as his wife gives her soft smile. A soft smile usually only reserved for him. But now reserved for their newly large family.

He sees a young naval officer, uncharacteristically clad in her dress blues, her gold laced hat under her arm at the door of his new quarters. Of an officer that he had the utmost respect for, telling him that his family had been destroyed while in route to join him on Coruscant. 

The memory of the emptiness and futility of fighting a war knifes into his brain and heart. A war that had taken his chance with a new promotion and a new job to care for his ailing wife and those five additions.

He turns and walks into the bright sunlight.


	7. 6. Burn that Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A government official meets with one of his masters. Just one of them.
> 
> Lassa discovers that the twins may have been right.

A hooded figure watches as a large figure puffs its way to them. The small cafe is deserted at this time of day, even in a busy spaceport such as Yarel III. The rotund figure spots the clandestine contact and sits in front of them. 

The High Constable of Yondu observes the figure. His strangely pitched voice comes through the cowl of his robe. "All right. I am here. What do you want?"

"I want to know what kind of game you are playing, Constable," the figure says in a modulated voice.

"I am doing exactly what you wanted. My contacts on the pirate crew are doing what I have asked. They have shifted the blame for the spice money theft to one of Rhayme's crew. That should get some of the pressure off of you from Jabba."

"So what are you getting out of this, Yondun?" the figure asks. "At the right time, I will reveal the conspiracy against Jabba from the Outer Rim pirates. Especially Rhayme, who has been a thorn in my side."

"With all of that blubber, it is a wonder that you can feel a thorn in your side, Constable," the figure says dryly.

The Yondun's eyes flash and his miniature lekku twitch under his hood. "You know, after the Corellians took out Jad, you Antols aren't doing so well in starting the interstellar crime syndicate like you wanted. Skon and Jed are barely hanging on to Naboo. Trolling for table scraps from the Hutts."

The modulated voice remains steady. "Never you mind about Antol family matters." The figure shakes his head. "No matter. We will be able to distract Jabba with chasing pirates; we can then move in and carve off some of his spice smugglers and routes."

"What is in it for me? I don't intend to be an bureaucrat on some backwater Mid-Rim world for the rest of my life," the High Constable says. 

"You will be well-compensated, Constable. Once our plans come to fruition."

"I think that I prefer my compensation in advance, I believe," the official says, inspecting his nails.

"I wonder it that hanging cord that you used to such great affect would support your considerable weight?" the hooded figure muses. "I have been the High Constable for thirty years or so, thug," the bureaucrat says. "The Swinging Sister hasn't caught up with me, yet." His smile is grotesque. "I know where all the bodies are buried."

"You will get paid the amount that we agreed upon, when we agreed upon. No more, no sooner."

The Yondun sighs. "I guess I will accept that. Just don't double cross me. I will my take my bonus in pleasure in watching Lassa Rhayme choking her life out on the Sister."

"Don't start masturbating over the thought just yet," the Antol soldier says. "We might be able to bring her into the fold."

The High Constable begins to laugh. "Good luck. The Hutts, Black Sun, the Pykes, they have all tried. She is stubborn as the day is long. Better to kill her and put somebody in her place. Or let me kill some more of her crew on the gallows. She'll lose heart."

"We'll see," the Antol says. 

"They are all stubborn, though. I only had to hang Dolros because he refused to deal." says the Yondun.

The soldier checks the chronometer. "I have to go. As much as I have enjoyed your charming company, I have other irons in the fire."

"You might want to be more polite, thug. If you find yourself on Yondu, you might kiss the Sister. I have a long memory."

"Well, I am sure that the next High Constable might be more malleable." The figure rises and leaves without another word.

The Yondun's lips curl into a sneer, as he contemplates the complex alliances and antagonists that have been set into motion.

~+~+~+~+~+

The Antol soldier watches the planet recede. A shift of a lever, a flip of a switch and the small ship is in hyperspace. The soldier sits and contemplates what the Yondun had said about the family. The accepted narrative about the Antols. They would never amount to anything but small time. The foray into Corellia had been ill-advised, but Jad, one of the younger twins, had insisted.

He now sat in a Corellian prison eating only soft food after the Procurator-Fiscal and External had personally arrested him.

Neither one of the twins were the brains of the outfit. Skon, the oldest, fancied himself the smartest.

The figure smiles behind the mask. _I'll let him keep thinking that._

The soldier lowers the hood of the cloak. The hands move to the mask on either side. 

The mask comes off with little effort, revealing the face of a young woman in her twenties.. Her long hair falls from its bun. The dark eyes gaze at the reflection of her youthful face. The true brains and power of the Antol lets a smile flow to her face.

Leeza Antol, youngest child and only daughter of the _Antol'ich_ of the Antols, holds the smile as she thinks of her future. She stands and walks aft. She strips off her clothing as she walks, until she comes to the bunk. 

She lifts up a different costume. One that she was born to wear, due to her intelligence and drive. One that she felt no loyalty to, other than as a means to an end.

She begins to pull the clothes on.

~+~+~+~+~+

Mirv Tahlen walks to the hatch to Lassa's quarters. He punches the fingerprint reader and puts on his most charming smile. 

Nothing happens. The door remains closed. He punches the signaler.

His anger grows. He hits it repeatedly.

The result is the same.

He turns and walks away. He pulls a spare comm from a hidden pouch. One with an untraceable linkage. He punches the button.

A familiar face floats above the comm. "I have information for you," he says.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa Rhayme rolls her eyes at the repeated chiming. She wipes her eyes against the painful memories. Her face grows angry as she thinks about the crewmember on the other side of the door. Of the pain of her choices.

She thinks about the two siblings who now may be in harm's way. In harm's way because of things that she had asked them to. At least one who may be dead, because of what she had asked. _More deaths because I am stubborn. Because I think that I know better._ Another who is alive, but may have to mourn the loss of her twin. 

Memories of light flow into her mind. The insistent chiming recalls another time when the same Quartermaster had been insistently pressing the signaler. A time when her crew was alive. Her skin tingles with memories of that night. Memories of touches and warmth.

A warm lavender hand moves over her face, calming the furrowed lines of her anger at the Mirialan on the other side of the hatch. A blue figure on the other side of her, resting against her side, starts to get up. She places her hand on his shoulder. "He'll go away, dear," she says warmly. 

"Almost afraid that what he will get into when he does."

"Well, we could invite him in," the owner of the lavender skin says. She runs her lips over Lassa's throat.

"I'll pass," her twin says, his own lips moving over the opposite shoulder of the Captain.

The Captain growls at the sensations. "Glad you were able to rearrange your schedule, loves," she says. She gasps as Thyla's tongue slips into her navel. "Your asshole chief engineer rearranged it for us," Thorin says. His mouth closes over a breast on his area of responsibility. "Gave our entertainment extra duties. I think the Dug may have heard that we were working him."

Lassa's breathing quickens. "Enough," she gasps. "Concentrate on working me."

There are no more words as both of the siblings move further down. 

Lassa's mind comes back to the present. For the first time in weeks, the darkness in her thoughts has receded. There is only light, if only for a brief time.

The grief remains as part of her being. 

Her eyes widen as she remembers why she was pissed off at Tahlen on that night several weeks ago.

_Because he had refused to go to Yondu to sell certain items._

Lassa opens her datapad. She checks funding levels in certain accounts. Accounts that the Quartermaster had insisted on having access to. Her eyes grow thunderous. She punches the comm for the master-at-arms.

~+~+~+~+~+

Captain Jana Sloane watches the Coruscanti sun play over her ship through the bridge windows. The old Stardestroyer will soon in the thick of things again; but first she has something to do. "Captain," says her XO, "The intel officer from Strategic Command is here."

"Thanks XO." She turns from the windows. She nods at the young Lieutenant approaching her. "Thank you for coming, Lieutenant. Admiral Yularen tells me that you probably know more about our criminal elements and pirate gangs in the Outer Rim than anyone else in the Fleet or StratComm."

''Yes, Captain," the young officer says, her eyes curious. "Good. You don't waste time on false humility. I like that."

She moves closer to the officer. "I have been tasked with finding a solution to our convoy losses. I have an idea, but I need information. That is where you come in, Lieutenant," Sloane says.

"What do you need, Captain?"

"As much intel as you can find on some of the Outer Rim pirate gangs. I need analysis of motives and methods, as well as their success rate. I particularly want information on the gang known as the Blood Bone Order."

She sees the young woman's dark eyes widen, for just a moment. Her own eyes narrow, but she dismisses it. "May I ask what this is for, Captain?" the Lieutenant asks. 

"You may ask, but I will keep it to myself for now."

"Very well, Captain. I will have the info to you by the end of the ten-day."

"That'll do." Jana holds her hand out to the officer. As they shake, she adds, "Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate this. That will be all."

She nods at the junior's salute, as she is uncovered.

She turns back to the windows. Her face grows with hope. Hope that she can convince the Jedi to loan her a Shadow for this job.

A Shadow who is now broken. As broken as his hunt-sister is lost to him. 

Behind her, the young officer turns. Her mind is alight with the possibilities.

Lieutenant (junior grade) Leeza Antol, RNVR, smiles as she marches out.

Her tailored uniform fits her like a glove.

Yet another costume. Yet another mask.


	8. 7. Off to See the Lizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More connections are revealed. Allies will be found. A young warrior seeks to clear her ledger.
> 
> Maybe in a way she hasn't thought through, completely.

Latts Razzi lies back as the sensations build in her center - sensations brought on by a pair of long fingers. The light continues to build as a warm mouth plays over her breasts. "Just like that, dear." She smirks as a strange thought comes to her mind. "Never thought a buckethead could do things like this." The owner of the fingers and mouth says nothing, just continues with their relentless attack. _Oh. That's right. She only speaks Mando'a. No Basic._

_Can't wait to hear what she sounds like when I get her going_ , Latts thinks. She can feel her explosion build as a noise intrudes in her pleasure.

An insistent hammering. 

Latts tries to ignore the knocking, but it continues. She sighs and immediately pushes the Mando away. There is a mewl of displeasure. She climbs out of the bed and shoves her insistent bed-partner away from her. She reaches down and soothes the ruffled feelings with a kiss. She pulls a short poncho on as a drape and walks into the small sitting room. She picks up a blaster and activates the door-viewer. She smiles at the angular figure standing there, a raised middle finger of an ancient Mando greeting on her hand. She opens the door.

"Hello, Asajj. Been awhile." The Dathomiri's eyes flash with amusement at Razzi's half-bared chest under the drape. "Did I call at a bad time, dear? Doing anyone I know?" She walks in and nods at the Theelin. The younger woman engulfs her in a deep embrace. They break apart and sit.

"Well, you know that I would rather be doing you, my beautiful witch, but beggars can't be choosers."

"So what is the flavor of the day?" Ventress asks. "A little Mando takeout," the Theelin replies. She sneaks a glance at the door. There was no sound indicating that her bed partner understands that she is the topic of conversation. 

Asajj rolls her eyes. "Whatever floats your boat. A little bland for my taste."

Asajj pulls out a small flask. Theelin picks up two coffee mugs. When the whiskey is poured, they touch their cups and drink.

Her fellow bounty hunter grows serious. "I have a question for you, Latts. It might go into the realm of a professional conflict of interest. Feel free to tell me to pound vacuum if it does."

"Well, ask me, dear. I'll decide."

"It involves Cad Bane."

Latts' eyes flash green. Asajj thinks that she had overstepped her bounds. "I have no fucking loyalty to that Duros son of a bitch. Ask away."

"Did you help him on a job a few days ago? A Twi'lek named Secura?"

Razzi smiles. "So that was his name. Yeah, I helped him grab the Twi'lek. He is handsome." She looks down. "I hope that he still is. People that cross Jabba don't tend to stay beautiful." Her mouth sets in a line. "Or breathing."

She look at Ventress. "Why are you interested, Asajj?"

"He works for a --someone I have worked with closely. Someone who I have trusted with my life."

The Theelin nods in understanding. "I don't know much. I know that Jabba put out the bounty because your boy allegedly stole spice money from Jabba to another group who was supposed to be laundering it."

"Did Bane say how he was supposed to be involved?"

Latts shakes her head. "No. It was a mystery how it happened. They only found out because someone tipped them off. It apparently happened when Secura was in the area on a fencing run for his employer."

Assaj is silent. "It sounds kind of fishy. Sketchy, even."

"Yeah, it did. But Bane was leaning on me to pay him back. He even threatened me. I didn't have any backup from Boba and the others, just an independent I paid. The boys are on a job elsewhere."

Ventress can see that there is a deeper story there, but doesn't ask. "Are you square with him dear? Do you need some backup?" 

The Theelin takes a sip of her drink. "No. Got a line on a job. Should get me flush. Plus Boba and I are at least talking. So there is hope there to get back with the band. Although I got tired of Dengar's breath and wandering hands. I may have to break him again."

"Give him a punch for me, dear." Latts takes the pale hand in hers. Ventress tries not to flinch. Latts smiles with a sideways glance. Her warm fingers caress the Dathomiri's hand. Her eyes lock with the blue of Ventress. She lifts the ex-Sith's hand to her lips. "There is room for one more in there, if you are interested, dear." She tries not to look hopeful.

Ventress smiles. "As much as I would love to rock your world, I can't. I have to meet some people."

Latts nods. "I have some people of my own on Tatooine. I will try to get some information for you. I'll share it with you for free, but if there is a paying gig and you need another gun, keep me in mind."

"Fair enough. I will call you." Both women stand. Ventress makes the first move and embraces the younger Theelin. "Take care, Asajj. I do miss having you around in the syndicate. You were able to puncture Boba's balloon on a regular basis."

"Wasn't like it was hard or anything."

Their shared laughter rises as they remember.

~+~+~+~+~+

The young woman has already stepped away from the door of the bed-space as she hears the laughter. She had no trouble understanding the Basic. She hurriedly pulls up her underwear and gathers her clothing and shoes. Clothing borrowed for this specific task.

The task that had led her to this bounty hunter's bed, trying to keep her breathing under control earlier. 

An attempt to start the almost insurmountable task of wiping her ledger clean from the filth of her past. 

A ledger filled by a life in what she thought was the true defender of Mando ways.

An organization whose truth was revealed on a snowy world to her, by their murder of an innocent young woman. By their attempted murder of a strong warrior who had interceded. A strong young woman, a Togruta Jedi.

A young woman who had opened the young Mando's eyes to the possibilities. 

The possibilities that include hanging around scumbag bounty hunter hangouts, hoping to get a lead on someone worth fighting for.

Of abandoning her armor for something much more revealing and light. Clothing of a type that she had rarely worn before, in order to not call attention the way that a fully-armored Mando fighter would.

It gave her the ability to listen without being noticed. _More possibilities._

The possibilities of catching the eye of the beautiful Theelin. Thankfully before the eye of the leering Trandoshan. Or the smelly human. _The ledger-clearing would've probably been started some other way._

She opens the window and drops her bag and clothes out to the ground. She follows it, landing lightly on her feet from the second floor window. She smiles as she pulls the dress over her head, settling it over her bronze skin. She turns and starts to run. She runs towards a small ship and a suit of black _beskar'gam._

As she does, J'ohlana Wren thinks of a Twi'lek named Secura, now a prisoner on her new destination.

Tatooine.

As good a place to start clearing the ledger as any.

~+~+~+~+~+

The High Constable of Yondu waits in the dim light of the Hutt's throne room. He surveys the debauchery of Jabba's court with all of the interest of a scientist surveying several species of bacteria. 

He thinks back to his discussion with the Antol. Of the web that he has weaved.

A whispered word here, a dropped hint to an informant there. If his webs come together, the end result will be a great deal of money for him to retire to the Wheel or Zeltros or some other pleasure spot in the galaxy. He will leave the Antols in disarray when it is revealed that the thief stole the spice money bound for them at their behest, to distract Jabba with the pirates.

He smiles to himself and looks around. He really should see if the _Impirteu_ will spring for a receiving room like this, instead of his dingy little audience chamber. 

Bib Fortuna, the desiccated pale Twi'lek, who serves as Jabba's majordomo walk into the chamber. His pale eyes lock onto the Yondun.

"What brings you here, Yondun?" the Twi'lek asks in his heavily accented Huttese.

"I believe that is between me and Jabba, worm," the High Constable replies. There is a sound reminiscent of a groan from the audience. At least those who still are able to listen over the din of the copulation, spice-ingestion, and other assorted carousing.

Not to mention the deal-making and the occasional murder.

The Twi'lek's eyes remain blank. His hand is about to motion to an Gamorrean guard when the low rumble of the Hutt's mobile stage stills his hand.

Within moments, the slow stately movement of the stage is completed. Jabba the Hutt stares out at his lackeys, syncophants, and future victims. His smaller larva, Rotta, sits near him, gorging himself on some sort of live spider-like animal.

The air is split by the sound of Rotta's gluttony taking a toll, as he vomits the small creatures up. The projectile expulsions land on the hem of Fortuna's robe. Jabba and his son both laugh at his minion's misfortune.

The Yondun takes this moment to step forward.

"Mighty Jabba, I come before you to re-pledge my loyalty to you. And to bring you a gift. A gift of information."

He weaves his webs, much like the small creatures decorating the majordomo's robe.


	9. 8. Ain't He a Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion of reprobates takes place on the _Opportunity._ Thorin learns his possible fate from Jabba, as well as an....interested party.

Thorin Secura lifts his head from the filthy ground of the cell. He wipes the caked blood from his eyes with his bare arm. He tries to lift the rest of his body; it barely responds. _Well, that damned boa did a number on me,_ he thinks. After five minutes of heavy effort, he manages to get to his hands and knees. 

He looks outside of the bars. Four very large and peevish Gamorrean guards stand outside grunting and laughing.

He learned that they were peevish first hand when they had been a bit miffed when he kicked one between the legs and head-butted another's piggish nose. 

The butts of their axe-blasters had pounded his face, head, and body for several minutes in an attempt to show him the error of his ways.

A pale Twi'lek, his desiccated skin a parchment, walks up to the guards. There is a brief exchange of Huttese. The Twi'lek's pale eyes turn to Thorin. 

Thorin Secura prides himself on his worldliness, on his acceptance of any advances, from anyone. He prides himself on his ability to reciprocate those advances, as well as make a few of his own. 

The look of appraisal in Fortuna's pink eyes makes his blood run cold and his skin crawl.

"Jabba will see you, now, thief. He will pass sentence on you."

"What about an actual trial. Presentation of evidence? My defense, maybe?"

"Jabba has already decided that you are guilty. All that is left is restitution. And your punishment."

The majordomo smiles. "Perhaps you may throw yourself on my mercy." The door opens. Fortuna walk in. He places his hand on Secura's cheek, stroking it with his fingers. "I could put in a good word for you with the mighty Jabba."

Thorin fights to keep himself from punching his fellow Twi'lek.

 _At least of the same species. Nothing makes him my fellow anything,_ he corrects himself.

"I think that I will take my chances with the slug."

"Don't be too hasty, young one. I could be very....accommodating," Fortuna says, his fingers increasing their pressure on Thorin's face. 

Without another word, Secura seizes Fortuna's hand. He gently puts the hand down by the criminal's side. 

The majordomo's eyes flash dangerously. He brings the hand up quickly in a fist. Thorin seizes the fist before it strikes.

There is a contest of wills. Of strength.

It ends when the older Twi'lek signals with his free hand.

Thorin Secura smirks as the Gamorreans lay into him with their weapons. He returns to the floor of his cell as they continue to beat him. He thinks of his sister as his consciousness fades again.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ventress watches as Lassa holds Thyla Secura to her closely. The Dathomiri can see the pirate captain fighting tears as the two women embrace. 

"I'm sorry, Thy. I messed up this time." she whispers. Thyla pushes her away. "No you didn't. Thorins'ecura is an adult. Just as I am. He knew the risks when he brought you the info. He was prepared for whatever came up."

Lassa looks down. "Yeah. Of course, you were both right. About Tahlen. He took the other runabout and emptied out the expense account."

Thyla takes Lassa's hands in her own. "We didn't want to be right, dear. We know that he gave you some laughs."

The pirate smiles ruefully. "Don't seem to be able to learn."

Thyla laughs. "I'm just glad that I haven't been shot in the ass yet," After a moment of narrowed eyes, Lassa joins her laughter.

A throat clears behind them. Lassa turns and walks over to Asajj. "Hey, Ventress. Been awhile."

Thyla rolls her eyes at the pregnant silence between the two warriors. "You two nearly got killed together. You would think it would be a little less awkward."

Both women relax. Lassa takes Asajj's hands in her own. She sees the ex-Sith flinch for a second at the contact, then relax.

"I am glad that you are alive, Asajj. Don't know what kind of universe it might be without you in it."

Asajj smiles. Somehow the look is softened on her angular features. 

"Thank you for saving my navigator's ass, dear." Lassa smirks. "It is kind of important to me."

Asajj shares her smirk. "Wouldn't want to see a work of art like that damaged."

Thyla sighs. _It is going to be a long trip._

~+~+~+~+~+

The Gamorreans lift Thorin up so that he faces the Hutt. The translator droid, his battered casing dull in the low light, speaks. "It has come to the mighty Jabba's attention that you have taken something of his. Namely several thousand credits that he has sent for an investment to the Mid Rim."

Both Jabba and Fortuna are taken aback by the perplexed look on Secura's battered face. The Hutt continues to speak through his droid. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Thorin smirks, his single eye not swollen shut focusing on the crime-lord. "Don't know what you're talking about. I have never been to Tattooine and I don't spend too much time in the Mid Rim."

"You were in the area that the slicing protocol came from. As a matter of fact, your ship was close enough to be statistically the source," the droid intones. 

"So what does this all mean? Do I get a chance to prove my innocence?"

"No. You get a chance to repay Jabba. You have three rotations. I suggest you contact your people to raise it. If you have any friends."

"What happens if I get you the money? I go free?"

"No. You only lose a hand. You then serve Jabba. In whatever capacity he deems necessary." 

Thorin feels the pink eyes of the majordomo on his back. The room falls silent as Thorin tries to figure the angle to get out of this. "I guess I know what this means for a Twi'lek. What happens if I don't get the money?"

Even though the droid cannot possibly show emotion, he gives a credible imitation of a smirk. "You will fight until you die in the mighty Jabba's arena."

Thorin closes the uninjured eye. _Okay. Fortuna's plaything or ending up on someone's blade._

Choices and more choices.

"You will be given an opportunity to get a communication out. Until the deadline comes, you will serve Jabba and his court."

There is laughter as he is dragged out by a single guard.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa sips the whiskey and listens to Asajj and Thyla as they explain what had transpired. "Apparently someone convinced Jabba that Thorin was his guy. That he had stolen the spice money."

Lassa digests the information. Asajj continues. "Jabba will give him a chance to pay the money back for a lesser penalty. We should be prepared for a comm from him with a date and time."

"So there is a chance we could get him back by just paying?"

Asajj shakes her head. "No. He will still be Jabba's. He just may lose an appendage instead of his life. But we won't ever see him again."

All three women drink in silence, their thoughts on Thorin.

Thyla looks at Lassa. "I am going, Captain. I am a Twi'lek female. A trained dancer of the first rank. I will stand a better chance of getting into the palace."

Lassa touches her hand. "Thy, I can't ask you to do that. I can't ask you to debase yourself like that." She closes her eyes. "I can't ask you to be a slave."

"Neither can I," Asajj says, a dark, unfathomable look in her blue eyes. A look of memory.

"Didn't recall asking either of you. It is no longer your call, Captain," she says to Lassa. Her hazel eyes tear. "This is family," she whispers. "Besides. Thorin would do it for me. He received the same training as a first-rank dancer than I did." She smiles "I will never tell this to his face, but he is better than I am." She looks at them both from hooded eyes. "A tiny bit."

Asajj is thoughtful. "I might be able to get you there. Maybe watch your back."

"It would be appreciated, darling," Thyla says. They suddenly notice a dark look of bronze fire from across the table. "So what the hell am I supposed to be doing during all of this?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe zooming in with your big ship and saving the day?" Ventress says.

"I don't like this plan. As Captain, I am shit-canning it. I will be the only one going into Jabba's palace."

She looks at Thyla. "He may be your family, but he is a member of my crew. I sent him there. I will be the one to go in to get him out."

"Lassa....," Thyla starts. Ventress touches her hand and shakes her head.

"Thy, I am expecting you to stay here in command of the Opportunity. May need you to pull our asses out of the fire," her Captain says. 

Asajj raises her eyebrows at the pronoun. She looks at Thyla. Both smile silently at each other. 

Lassa's eyes are alive. More alive than they have been in weeks. 

Something Asajj had noticed when she had boarded the ship. The difference from when they had fought together on Florrum when they had first met.

Lassa's comm buzzes. She reads the text.

"Got the comm from Thorin. He is in Jabba's palace. We have three rotations of Tattooine to get the money."

Asajj looks at her. "I say we don't acknowledge. I know a bounty hunter's hyperspace route that will have us there in ten hours. We can figure something out in route."

Lassa stands up and walks to the port. She looks out at the starts. Asajj rises as well and walks over next to her. She steels herself and touches the pirate on her shoulder. Her hand lingers. "I may have a way to get us some intel, Lassa. A colleague has some informants there. I can contact her en route."

Lassa can only nod as she thinks on what she might have to do.


	10. 9. They Don't Dance Like Carmen No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin finds an ally. A pirate and a bounty hunter share their past pains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more graphic in nightmares and memories.

The heavyset figure makes his way through the dim light of Jabba's throne room. His night vision, still good after thirty years of having his life depend on it, helps him navigate the slumped figures on the floor. His nose wrinkles at the smells, as well as lingering debauchery in the chamber.

The head slug and his spawn sleeps on his platform. The figure tightens his grip on the purloined boarding blaster, as well as the blaster-axe of the standard issue guards. 

He smiles through the scarf wrapped around his features. His helmet covers the features that make Tholothians unique.

It had been relatively easy to get a job as a guard. He had merely shot the Gamorrean who had challenged him for the slot, before the sleemo could unlimber his own blaster.

 _Still got the reflexes, bud,_ he thinks. He smiles slightly as the years fall away. A fresh-faced pilot trainee for the Judicials. _Lot of years, kilometers, and kilograms ago._

His eyes lock on the object of his attention. A tall, blue figure, skillfully dancing to the beat in the corner with the small ensemble, several audience members watching raptly, as well as grabbing for him.

The figure dodges easily, occasionally stepping on hands, _accidentally,_ as they grab.

A few others he lets grab. A select few. The current song stops. The heavyset figure smiles as he thinks of the grace.

Grace comparable to his adopted brood, practicing their own steps. Not as a symbol of servitude, but as a symbol of their heritage.

The dancer currently only slightly taller than his oldest son. The same rich blue color and the sardonic look in his blue eyes.

He walks over to the crowd. "Show's over everyone. He is going back to the cage," he says. He adds a word in Ryl under his breath, knowing that the dancer will hear it. A slight nod of the bare lekku. 

"Who do I see about engaging his services?" a human male spice smuggler asks. "He looks like he might have a few moves I might enjoy privately." At this, the human runs his hand over the dancer's groin.

The dancer smirks. "You couldn't handle me, sport," he says in his barely noticeable Ryl accent.

The smuggler starts towards him. The guard puts his blaster barrel between the two. "Not tonight. I get a taste first. You can take it up with Jabba," he says smoothly, sending a prayer for his words.

_A prayer for forgiveness from the departed souls on that transport._

The smuggler looks as if he will contest, but he moves away from the guard's bulk and his apparent ready trigger finger.

When they are alone, the guard takes the dancer's arms and says a word of comfort in the language of the dancer's birth.

"You speak my language very well, tubby," the dancer says. "Yeah. Comes from learning so that I can speak to my smartassed children."

The dancer's brows raise, but he smiles gently. "They taught you well."

"Let's go. We can talk on the way."

"Why are you talking to me?"

"Some friends of friends of my temporary employer sent me. They passed along to me that you should listen to me; that they are working on an _opportunity_ to get you out of here."

The Twi'lek's eyes widen at the word. He nods, a bit of a small smile flowing across his battered features. "Okay. Whatever you say, tubby."

"Look, asshole. If you would rather take your chances with loverboy back there, feel free to keep up the fat comments. Otherwise, you can call me Guns."

A wry grin stays on the Twi'lek's face. "Okay, Guns. Point taken. What's the plan? I am not looking forward to either losing a hand or getting eaten by a rancor in the slug's arena."

"For now, just sit tight. I'll do my best for you, son." He closes his eyes at the slip. "Sorry. I'll do my best for you."

"It's okay," the prisoner says. "Never knew anybody to call me son, before, Guns." He grins. "My name is Thorins'ecura."

"My name is Adis, Thorin."

They walk the rest of the way in silence, each with thoughts of the past and future.

For Thorin, his thoughts are of his twin sister, her purple face split with her grin; her eyes rolling at him. _A crappier dancer, but a helluva lot smarter than me._

For Adis, the sight and sounds of a faceless entity telling him that he would no longer be an officer and a pilot in the Republic's new Navy. That Chief Gunner's Mate was the most he could hope for.

_You have a propensity for becoming too emotionally attached to those who you helped save, Chief Adis. Not many officers would adopt five orphaned Twi'leks._

An unspoken word looms behind the smooth tones. _Tailheads._

The memory of having to tell his wife that he would be supporting the seven of them on much less pay.

He opens the cell in the dancers' enclave. Thorin steps in. As he holds his bound hands through the slot, as the devices are removed, he clasps Adis's hands tightly, for just a moment.

The gunner's eyes tear as he turns away.

~+~+~+~+~+

The young Pantoran feels the cord constrict around her throat as she fights to keep her balance on the tiny stool. She feels a sharp slice in her throat, as the cord loosens for a moment and slips down slightly.

It tightens again. The young woman's throat constricts. Her eyes once again fall on the staring blue eyes of Chienne, her crimson skin turning black, as insects congregate around her open mouth. Her heart-bond, Conu swings near her, her bare arms touching against her life partner in death, as much as in life.

It is the third figure that causes the young woman to sob. A handsome Zeltron, his easy grin stilled and his purple eyes fixed on her bronze. Her most recent memory of those eyes above her as they built to their finish. His sister and her heart-bond giggling in the next bunk over in the tiny shared quarters of their freighter.

She looks at the slug who had murdered her friends and loves without trial or mercy. A Separatist commissar named Durd.

Who was looking as if he is about to end her short life as well. To order his battle droids to yank the stool from under her feet, to let her dance as she strangled.

She closes her eyes. _Why not spare him the trouble?_

She eases her bare feet to the edge of the stool. _One more centimeter. I am home with my friends._

As she moves to step off of the stool, she looks at her friends, one last time, swinging above their own filth.

She feels the bite at her throat again. This time she feels blood trickling down her chest. She tries to desperately stop her slide as the stool falls from underneath her feet.

The rope tightens to a blinding agony. There is light and pain. Then there is only darkness.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa starts awake with a scream. She realizes that she is safe; in the crew's dining room of her own ship. A pair of silver-blue eyes gaze at her and through her, from across the table. 

At first, there is curiosity.

The intense gaze softens, as much as an ex-Sith, ex-witch, current bounty can soften. There is sympathy in the gaze. Sympathy and shared pain.

Just for a moment. Then the gaze turns back to its sarcastic intensity. Lassa rolls her eyes.

"Some wet dream, pirate. Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

"Even better, witch."

"Must've been dreaming about me, darling," Ventress says. She notices Lassa absently touching a small scar on her throat. A tiny puncture wound and cut between her collarbones. 

Ventress's eyes lock on hers. The bounty hunter steels herself and reaches out. She closes within an inch and stops, shaking her head.

With a swift, graceful movement, Lassa takes the Dathomiri's hand and places it on the wound.

The long thin fingers flinch at the touch, then gently settle on her blue throat. Asajj traces the scar. She can tell that it is small, but that the puncture wound is deep.

The pirate finds the touch strangely relaxing. "What caused this, Lassa?" Ventress asks quietly. 

"A nice little piece of wire was embedded in the cord a Seppie scumbag was going to use to hang me."

Ventress continues to caress the spot. She realizes what she is doing and drops her hand. "Kinda felt good, witch," Lassa says. 

"You know that I used to be a Separatist, didn't you?" the bounty hunter asks. Lassa smiles and gets up from her seat at the table. "Yeah. I figured. Had that smell about you," she says with a smirk.

Ventress doesn't rise to the riposte. "You okay with it? I can leave, if you like."

Lassa's smirk turns to a grin. "No. Figured we have saved each others' asses during that last job enough to make up for your smell."

They laugh quietly. Both women fall silent, each lost in thought. "So what did you do to get a rope around your neck, woman?" Ventress asks.

"Well, we didn't rightly know. We smuggled a bit, but never anything that had a death penalty attached. We didn't even have a trial. The slug just strung my friends up and made me watch them die, while I had the cord around my neck and balancing on a stool."

She grins ruefully. "I think that he fancied himself a scientist. Wanted to see how our bodies would react to the process." Her expression grows dark. "And how my mind would react."

"Let me guess. Lok Durd."

"Sounds right," the pirate says. "A real charmer, pirate. Even the other Separatist commanders thought so."

"Were they your crew?" Ventress asks. The azure features of the pirate pale for a moment. "More like family. A Zeltron pair bond and one of them's brother. She closes her eyes. "He was my lover."

Ventress is silent. Lassa looks into her distant gaze. "You said you used to be a Seppie. What happened? From what I hear, that isn't something they let you resign from."

Ventress chuckles. "You would be right, dear. They 'resigned' me. Nearly permanently a few times."

"Trying to stay off of their sensors. People around me usually wind up slaughtered," she says. "You might think about that, when you decided to accept the inevitable and ask me to kriff you silly."

"I'll try to restrain myself," Lassa says dryly. She looks into the bounty hunter's eyes. The ice-chip blue eyes lock on hers. "Asajj, I notice that you don't like to touch or be touched, lately. What happened?"

"Never was one for it too much. I was raised as a slave. My master was decent, but I was a slave. I then had another....teacher. He was kind."

"Since they were both killed, I haven't been much for touching, unless it was to kill or to fuck."

She looks down, her eyes closed. "The last person that I touched, that could've been more than just gratification, she and all of my clan-sisters were slaughtered by my Separatist masters." She snarls. "Just because they gave me safe harbor."

Lassa gives her a moment to gather herself. Ventress takes it, as if a lifeline. 

Without a word, Lassa reaches out her hand and takes the Dathomiri's in hers. Asajj refuses to flinch, as Lassa sits next to her, her pale hand wrapped in an easy grip.

Two women; strong warriors lost in their own pain, but refusing to be bowed by that pain.

They sit together, watching the chaos of hyperspace. 

Living.

They do not realize that they are being watched. Thyla Secura stands in the door of the lounge, sipping caf. Her hazel-blue eyes are troubled as she sees the two women staring out into space, their hands clasped. She smiles as she realizes that the two women are asleep, their heads on each other's shoulders.

So different, but so much in common.


	11. 10. Be Young, Be Foolish, Be Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrival on Tatooine. An unlikely ally attacks.

Asajj Ventress watches over Lassa's shoulder as she brings the _Opportunity_ on approach to Mos Espa, the Hutt capital on Tattoine. "Well, boys and girls, we are in for it now," the bounty hunter says. 

"Maybe not. You have any idea who your fuck-buddy's contact is?" Lassa asks. She can feel the Dathomiri's eyes burning into her neck. Next to his captain, in the co-pilot's chair, the young Nikto, Gri busies himself with the landing sequence. He suddenly wishes he was elsewhere. Behind the captain, standing over the fold-down plotting table near the navicomputer, Thyla smirks.

"She gave me a comm recognition code, that is all, twit," Ventress says. "That is Captain Twit, on this bridge, witch," Lassa says absently. The ex-Sith gives a mock salute that begins with her long middle finger to her brow that ends in an ancient Mando salute scratching the pale eyebrow.

The pirate at the comm console turns at a blinking chime. "Got a code signal on the frequency Ventress gave us, Captain," she says. Ventress looks with distaste at the Weequay, but moves back to the console. She listens for a moment. 

"Sounds like, it, Captain, dear," she says. Lassa nods absently. She turns to the Nikto. "Mr. Gri, lock onto that signal. Get us to the closest docking bay that can handle us."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

Lassa stands up and stretches. She notices Asajj looking at her. 

Specifically at her chest. Her eyebrows raise. She shakes her head, thinking that she is imagining it. Ventress turns away. 

Lassa's eyes track down her back, to the woman's ass. Thyla's eyes lock on hers with a smirk. She grits her teeth and turns back to watching Gri pilot the ship in.

She hears a whisper in her ear. "Are you measuring her for a target to put the blaster bolt?"

"Come now, Navigator. You know I have never shot a female lover in my life. If I had, you would've probably been the first."

"Just checking, Captain." The Twi'lek smiles softly. "Keep looking, Lassa. It shows us you are alive." She places a feather-light kiss on her Captain's ear.

Gri brings the ship in for a picture-perfect landing. "Mr. Gri, mind the store for awhile, lad. The old folks are going to stretch their legs for a bit." She turns to the comm console. Sohlwey, the crewmember stationed there for the moment, says, "Got a fix on it, Cap. It appears to come from a cantina near hear, with the number of bodies on infrared."

Lassa nods to the Weequay. "Master at Arms, back Mr. Gri. We'll be back soon."

Thyla smirks. "Ahh, Mr. Gri. A favorite already. Pretty soon, you'll be the one getting shot in the ass by our dear Captain."

"Don't listen to her, Gri. I would never shoot anyone as young as you."

"There was that kid last year. What was he? Eighteen?

"Maybe. But that was different. He swindled us out of some hard-won cash."

"Only because a certain pirate-captain was taken in by his big.... brown eyes and his smooth patter."

"Okay, do you think that we could not catalog my choices in this arena right now?" Lassa says with exasperation. "You're safe, Mr. Gri. I am intending to join a nunnery somewhere."

"Well, she did shoot her own father. And not in the ass, either." Thyla continues.

"Old bastard deserved it."

Behind them, Asajj Ventress watches and listens with amusement.

And with no little hint of envy.

~+~+~+~+~+ 

San Adis sits in the back of the dingy cantina. He sips his drink as he waits for his mysterious contact.

A contact sent his way by another in a series of mysterious employers. A Theelin woman who had hired him to watch her back when she was on a job.

A job that resulted in the capture of the Twi'lek dancer in Mos Eisley. The job that had him question what the hell he was doing here.

A desertion on a Separatist world had limited his options. A desertion because of a sense of futility in the war.

A war that had claimed his family. Adis looks up.

A beautiful young Pantoran woman stands over him. A younger Twi'lek woman; perhaps still in her late teens stands next to her with a datapad and comm. A Twi'lek around the same age and with very familiar facial features of that dancer.

Another woman, pale and thin, her ice-blue eyes hard, stands slightly behind the pair. Adis smiles and speaks to the Twi'lek woman, her skin a rich purple. "You must be Thylas'ecura," he says in Ryl. "Your brother says to tell you that he still thinks that you are a shitty dancer and that it is a good thing you never got past the _stae're_ discipline."

The young woman's eyes widen and her lekku twitch under her bindings, but she says nothing.

She turns to the Pantoran. "He probably had contact with Thorin. Knows a few things that only Thorin would know; things that aren't important enough to torture someone for."

The Pantoran nods. "So what do you know?" she asks the Tholothian.

"I know he only has a day or so before they put him in the arena." He looks down. "I think that he is a skilled young man, but I don't know how long he will last."

Lassa is struck by the pain and compassion in the heavyset Tholothian's voice. She takes in the muscular, but gone to seed form, the intelligence in his eyes, and the Judicial flight jacket.

She remembers her first ship and a beautiful young Judicial officer about to be raped and killed by a fellow crewmember. She remembers having to run after killing the crewmember and putting the young officer in an escape pod.

Of a vow taken to never mimic those murderous pirates.

"What can you tell us?" she asks the man. His name tag on the jacket reads 'Adis, S.' "Adis," she adds.

"I told him to sit tight; passed along the code word." He takes a sip of his ale. "Word is that the reason that he was snagged, was not just the tip, but the comm code used to slice the money was from an old Twi'lek communicator. Very old and almost exclusively carried by Ryloth natives. Something about the frequencies being more comfortable to their ears."

Lassa digests this for a moment. The sharp-featured woman, with tattoos on her face, looks at she and Thyla. "What?" she asks.

"Thorin and Thyla were born in space. They were raised in orphanages and foster-homes all over the Core. They have never actually been to Ryloth. Plus," she continues, "they didn't have much. Certainly no communicators."

Asajj looks at Lassa. "We know of at least one half-Twi'lek."

"The High Constable," Lassa finishes. She looks at Adis. "Can you go back to Jabba's Palace? Maybe get us in?"

He is silent for a moment. "I can arrange to get a door opened. But you will need to get there on your own."

She nods absently. "I can do that." She looks back at him. "Can you watch out for Thorin until I get there?" She meets his eye. "I can't pay you anything extra."

He shakes his head. "I will look out for the child," he says earnestly. He closes his eyes at his slip. All three women start at his choice of words." He changes the subject. "Do you have any job openings?"

"I don't know. What can you do?"

"Well, they call me Guns for a reason. Plus, I didn't get this flight jacket and these eagles for my sterling personality."

Lassa's smile widens slowly as she looks at Thyla. "Just might have something, Guns. But, we ain't exactly legal."

He laughs. "Neither am I. Let's just say that I would like to avoid any....Republic entanglements."

Lassa nods her head. "Let's get through this and we'll talk. Might need a gunner's mate, at least. We'll be in touch." 

He stands up. Lassa extends her hand. He takes it; and shakes it firmly.

Lassa turns to the other two. "Looks like I have an in."

"Yeah," Ventress says. _"We_ do."

"No, Asajj. Not asking anyone else to bear the risk. Thank you for looking out for Thy. And before you say anything, Thy, no, you are not going, either."

Asajj's eyes grow fiery. "You are not going in alone, Lassa," she says angrily. "I will go with you. I am not going to have you free Thorin, only to get yourself killed."

Lassa pats her blaster. "If I have to, I will stun both of you."

"Good luck with that," Ventress says. "I'll put you in a medcenter."

Thyla watches both of them back and forth. She rolls her eyes. "Come on, Lassa. I can understand not wanting me to go. I know you are afraid I might go crazy and do something stupid if Rin is killed."

"But Asajj can watch your back."

"No, she can't," comes a sharp voice. "She still has a job for us."

Jaze Stane and a Mirialan woman with red hair and a slash of tattoo rows across her olive skin stand in the entrance. Asajj's eyes grow thunderous at the recognition of the woman. "Separatist bitch," she sneers.

The Mirialan draws her blaster in one swift motion and fires it at the three.

The three women scatter. Blasters and and an energy bow are immediately brought out.

The patrons scatter as well. Lassa Rhayme and Asajj Ventress find themselves firing rapidly at the pair, standing shoulder to shoulder. "Watch our backs, Thy," Asajj shouts. 

The navigator has anticipated and stands with her back to the other two.

"Once again, witch, your sterling personality has gotten us in the shit." Lassa says.

"Yeah, honey. Like you could do any better."

The three women suddenly realize that they have managed to advance to the outside.

But the two bounty hunters have managed to find cover and open fire with heavy slug-throwing rifles. 

"Goddammit, we may have to have the _Opportunity_ pull our ass out of this. Too damned flashy," Lassa yells over the din.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lassa spies a black armored, helmeted figure to their left. She turns her blaster on the figure and opens fire.

She checks her fire as she sees the figure open fire on the two bounty hunters. 

But not before one of her shots finds the woman's chest. Right on a bright orange blob in the center. The figure staggers, but doesn't fall. 

Jaze Stane turns his rifle on the figure and opens rapid fire. Their protector staggers from a hit and goes to their knees. 

Asajj sees her chance. She holds her hand out in the direction behind the Stanes. A loud bellow is heard.

A huge dewback charges the husband and wife's position.

The beast knocks both of them into the air. Their armored ally takes the opportunity to stagger to their feet and run, as best as they can. 

When the dust has settled, there is no sign of the two attackers, or their defender. Only the dewback, who walk over to them. The beast lowers its head playfully and head-butts Lassa, knocking her to the ground.

"Think I found our transport to Jabba's palace."

"I told you witch. You are not going any fucking where." Asajj reaches down and pulls her to her feet. She smirks and reaches into Lassa's pocket.

Both of them are acutely conscious of the contact on Lassa's hip. Asajj finds what she is looking for. She holds up a single credit. "I am apparently out of a job. You just contracted me as your bodyguard, sweet-cheeks."

Lassa can only stand there and steam. Thyla and Asajj both are soon supporting each other in their laughter at her expression.

~+~+~+~+~+

The black armored figure tries to slow her breathing as she leans against an alley wall. Pain lances through her chest from the blaster hit dead center.

The _beskar_ had held, but she is sure that she has broken ribs.

She feels warm blood flowing from her shoulder where the slug had penetrated. She reaches behind her. _No exit wound, dammit._

J'ohlana Wren's eyes flash with anger. She calms and grins ruefully behind her _buy'ce._

_This do-gooding shit is hard._


	12. 11. A Thousand Steps to Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a journey to a Hutt's Palace, connections are made.

Asajj pulls Lassa into the cave as the deluge of sand hits them. They had managed to get Butthead, the recalcitrant dewback, hobbled and blindered in a sheltered canyon next to the small cave with the blind in front. Lassa throws their bags and bedrolls deeper in the cave. They can feel air coming from the deep back of the cave; they hope that the storm will keep the Raiders that they had been warned about away.

Lassa figures from the map that they have only a few miles to go to get to Jabba's palace. They had taken the long way around and had been in the saddle for several hours.

Lassa plops down on the bed roll. She opens a pack and pulls out a small charging unit/warmer. She fires it up; its comforting glow plays over Asajj's pale features. Both women slip their boots and socks off. Weapons belts and outer wear follow. Lassa's eyes play over Asajj's wiry arms in her sleeveless shirt.

She doesn't realize that the bounty hunter's eyes have locked on her opened dress shirt.

The two women unroll their bedding. With a slight smile, Asajj moves her bedroll closer to Lassa's. She watches as Lassa opens two self-heating ration packs and waits while they heat. "Hope you like nuna curry," the pirate says to her companion. She pulls out two water pouches, as well as a bottle of Whyren's. Her Tevraki supply had been disappearing mysteriously, lately. 

They eat in companionable silence. Asajj is conscious of Lassa's warmth against her arm, as they rest against their packs. Conscious of it, even though she has been trying to avoid contact with anyone.

Ever since her sisters had been slaughtered on Dathomir. Her eyes track downward to the charging unit. In her mind, it takes on an otherworldly glow. A glow of green mist plays behind her eyelids as they close. They snap open. She looks over.

Lassa is taking her own trip through the mists of memory. Starting with her own fixation on the light and warmth before her.

Her trip recalls members of her family swinging from two different gibbets. The four members parade across her mind on an endless loop.

She starts awake. Asajj is looking at her. Where she had expected a distant coldness in the ice-blue eyes, there is sadness. There is warmth. There is understanding. 

The same warmth and understanding that fills Lassa's bronze eyes. The same pain and sadness. The two warriors are quiet as they look at each other. Two warriors who have already established their kindred spirits in shared combat and shared companionship afterwards.

Lassa feels her breathing quicken as she weighs what is about to happen. She can see that the Dathomiri is growing to the same state. Lassa lifts her blue hand. She moves it slowly to Asajj's face. 

She stops and brings her fingers back. She pulls up the bottle of whiskey, opens it, and takes a swig. She brings it away from her lips, licking the whiskey off of her lips.

She notices that Asajj is focused on those lips. The ex-Sith starts as Lassa hands her the bottle. The ritual with the mouth of the bottle is repeated, with the same result from Lassa. 

Both women snicker and roll their eyes. When their eyes complete the roll, they lock on one another again. Asajj moves her hand to the pirate's. She lifts it from its place on Lassa's knee. The witch rubs Lassa's fingers in a gentle stroking movement. Lassa looks down.

Asajj draws the blue fingers to her full lips. She gently folds the tips against the palm, caressing them with each move. She brings the woman's hand to her lips. She gently kisses each knuckle.

Lassa can feel the smile against her fingers; her _ally's? no, friend's_ she corrects herself, breath ghosting gently over the skin.

The breath moves through to her core. Asajj breaks free. She slowly moves Lassa's hand up to her face. She opens the hand and places it where Lassa had started to move to earlier. She leans into the Pantoran's palm, as Lassa strokes the high cheekbones with her thumb.

Their eyes lock on one another. Bronze against silver-blue. Lassa brings herself up on her knees. She pulls herself over to Asajj. Her free hand goes to Asajj's cheek, opposite the one already touching the pale skin. They pull closer. Lassa pulls the Dathomiri to her lips. 

The moment when their lips touch; the second when her tongue gently opens Asajj's mouth. 

The instant when her forehead rests against Asajj's. All are marked in the pirate's brain.

Asajj pushes back, her own tongue slipping against Lassa's. They come up for air, gentle smiles on both faces.

Until Asajj nips at the other woman's lower lip. Lassa yelps. Asajj laughs and draws the lower lip into her mouth. Lassa hisses. 

Ventress's hands move down from where they have rested on Lassa's face. Her thumb traces the tiny scar on the pirate's throat, between her collarbones where they peek out from her dress shirt. 

The bounty hunter places her palms against that same collarbone and slides under the shirt.

She moves her hands down slowly, spreading the shirt open. Lassa gasps as the warm hands move over her breasts. Asajj separates her hands, gently draping the open shirt off of the young Pantoran's smooth shoulders. She smiles again. A woman young in years, but one who has already lived several lifetimes.

 _Much like herself_. Asajj hesitates for a moment. She wonders if she should get close. Close enough to mourn Lassa. 

The pirate sees the warrior's thoughts flowing across her sharp features. She lifts the woman's chin with her fingers. "Don't worry, darling. I am not going anywhere. I am kinda hard to kill." Her eyes glow in the dim light. "Live for the moment."

Asajj stares at her for another half-minute. Her hands move downward, under the full breasts of the pirate. She cups and lifts. There is another hiss as her thumbs move slowly upward on the fellow warrior's nipples. She kisses Lassa quickly and moves her mouth down to her throat. Her mouth tracks down to where it joins her hands. 

There is a moan as Asajj's lips close on a hard tip. She feels Lassa fighting with her own trousers to pull them off. Asajj stops her licking and kissing of the pirate's skin to yank her own shirt off. 

Lassa manages to unbuckle the warrior's trousers and yank them over her hips. She loses her balance and falls on top of the witch. Laughter erupts from them both. It rises in volume as each article of clothing is yanked off. 

"I knew it!," Lassa shrieks as her dress shirt is finally pulled over her head. Her own hands pull Asaaj's trousers further down and off. "I knew you went commando!" Asaaj smirks as she slips Lassa's own underwear down her long legs. "Underwear is for pirates," she says.

"Witch."

"Twit."

The insults diminish as mouths are put to better use on their now-bared bodies. The Pantoran lies her body full-length on the Nightsister's, if only for a moment. Lassa's tongue plays over the breasts of the woman, mimicking the ex-Sith's movements on her own breasts. Asajj gasps as Lassa's tongue moves over the flat belly of the Dathomiri. Lassa marvels at the temperature of the pale skin. For some reason, she imagined the ex-Separatist's skin being much cooler.

Nothing could be further from the truth as her lips move down the thin legs. Her breathing intensifies along with Asajj's as the woman's scent reaches her brain.

She feels the leg muscles tighten as her lips touch the hunter's center.

Her tongue teases Ventress's folds apart. Her senses are overwhelmed by the warrior's spicy essence. She hears a growl from above. "Don't stop, woman," comes the hissing cadence. 

Lassa, a woman not given to following direction, obeys. She feels the witch's hands in her hair, the slight mewling cries flowing from Ventress's throat. The pirate feels the muscles in the legs clinch and unclinch as she builds to her explosion.

Lassa's mouth finds the tiny nerve cluster and pulls it between her lips, her tongue bombarding it. A scream is wrenched from her own mouth as Asajj tightens her grip on her hair and pulls slightly. Ventress releases her head when she hears the scream. 

Asajj feels the smirk against her folds as the light recedes from her second explosion.

She allows no respite. She gathers her strength and seizes the pirate under her shoulders and pulls her up to her mouth.

She drinks in her own taste as their mouths meld and they breathe for each other. Lassa's eyes widen as she feels herself lifted by an unseen hand.

Her legs move up the witch's body until she straddles the woman's shoulders.

She yelps as the Dathomiri's teeth clamp on the blue skin of her thighs. She outright purrs as the bite is quickly soothed by a kiss.

Another yelp; a bite on the opposite side.

A squeak as the lips and tongue concentrate on her folds. A low growl and moan combination as the tongue finds her clit and draws it into Ventress's mouth.

She isn't aware of much else as the Dathomiri's fingers run through the lavender curls over her center while her tongue plays over the wetness.

She is aware of even less that she feels the insistent tongue and fingers. She manages to reach back with her own fingers to Asajj's core.

The sounds of the lessening storm no longer intrude into the small sanctuary. Only gasps, breaths, growls, and cries split the night.

The sounds rise in crescendo as they build to another finish. 

As the light recedes in their minds, Asajj places a final kiss on the pirate's center. They both giggle as Lassa is yanked up by the mystical energy field and deposited on the ground next to her. "Witch," the pirate whispers again.

"Not bad for a pirate," Ventress whispers. "Yeah, sweetie," Rhayme says as she rises up and moves up to lay her head on the pale shoulder, "I even did it without you having to hoodoo me."

"Oh, my dear. You definitely have some hoodoo of your own." They are quiet for a while. 

"Lassa?"

"Mm-hmmh?"

"This felt good." Lassa tenses for the 'but'. "But I don't know how much of a regular thing this can be. I don't know if I can get close to anyone."

Lassa is silent again. For a moment, the ex-assassin is worried. Lassa rises up on her elbow. She looks into the silver eyes. "I know, sweetling. I don't think that this is what I can afford either." She reaches down and kisses the full lips. "But I will look forward to whatever we can give each other."

Asajj reaches up and touches her face. She pulls the lavender braid apart and lets the hair spill over her chest as she pulls Lassa's head down. She gasps as Lassa's lips fasten to her nipple again, with movements from her tongue.

Within seconds, they both sleep. Their breathing syncs in a rare moment of peace.


	13. 12. The Weather is Here, I Wish You Were Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uninvited guests at Jabba's Palace. The slug places a bet.

Asajj Ventress stands at the side of the dewback. She tightens the girth of the saddle around the middle.

Butthead, of course, protests and attempts to bite the former assassin. A punch to the nose of the beast suffices to discourage the attempt.

She returns the reins to the stone. She takes a deep breath. The heat is already rising with the twin suns. She looks at the entrance and releases the breath. 

Confusion reigns on her face as she thinks about last night and its light and sensations of warmth and touches. 

Warmth and touches from a like-minded woman. She curses silently and walks back to the cave.

Ventress ducks under the entrance. She smiles as she looks at the pirate sprawled half on and half off the bedroll. The covers pooled around her knees. Asajj look up and down her nude body. She walks slowly over and kneels beside Lassa. The ex-Sith runs her knuckles over the soft skin of the Pantoran's thighs.

One eye opens as a noise like a purr flows from her full lips. Asajj reaches down and kisses her gently. "Hey, pirate. Get that nice ass up. I really don't want to be traveling in the full heat of the day."

Lassa sits up. Asajj is treated to the sight of a deep stretch. The Dathomiri hands her a cup of caf. She smiles her thanks and sips. She looks at the fellow warrior. "You okay, witch?" she asks softly. 

"Yeah, pirate scum." She touches the Pantoran's cheek. "I had a great time last night, dear. Gonna be hard to go face a slimy Hutt-slug."

"There's a visual," the pirate snarks. She looks Ventress up and down when she realizes that the woman is wearing different clothing. A gray, short body-skirt with an attached hood hugs her angular curves. Lassa's bronze eyes track up her legs. Asajj reaches for a pair of thigh-high leggings and slides the first one slowly up her legs, a smirk on her face. 

Lassa shoves her backwards. Their unbridled laughter surprises even them.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa dozes as the rhythm of the dewback lulls her. She concentrates on the wiry arms around her middle. She smiles as she turns slightly. The Nightsister's hood is up and a cowl covers the lower half of her face. The diamond-hard blue eyes gaze at Lassa. She sees the movement of the mask quirk up. She turns to face the front. She hears a rustling and then a pair of lips touches the skin of her neck.

"Can't be doing that too much, witch. Can't be making kissy-face when we get to Jabba's. Things might be getting a bit loud."

Lassa looks down. "Asajj, you can stay out when we get there. I don't know if I am going to be able to get Rin out of there."

She closes her eyes. "I can't have your death on my conscience."

She yelps as she feels a pair of teeth on her neck. "It's my choice, dear. I make my own choices," she repeats. "Nobody forces me to do anything, pirate-twit."

They are both quiet as they spot the Palace in the distance. "Asajj, why did you change your clothes?"

She feels the smile on her neck. "This is clothing that my people wear when they are on a mission."

"How come you aren't with them?"

"Because my former master slaughtered them. Simply because they gave me sanctuary."

Lassa is quiet. "It is why I will have to wear the mask at Jabba's and sneak around."

"What do you mean?" Lassa asks. 

"Three years ago, I kidnapped Jabba's son. I would have killed him, too. Just so my master could blame the Jedi and deny hyperspace routes to the Republic."

Lassa is silent. Asajj thinks that she has scared her off.

"So why are you here trying to rescue my crewman?"

"Because you need me"

"Really? That doesn't sound like someone who is the big bad Sith or whatever the hell you call it." She turns in the saddle and kisses the ex-assassin. "It sounds like a friend."

She feels the smirk against her lips. "Wouldn't go that far. Don't think either of us are the friendly types," Asajj says. 

"Point taken. But it doesn't sound like you are the same person." She is quiet for a moment. "I certainly ain't the same person I was when I ran away. When my friends were murdered." She smiles. "When Mal took a chance on me for his crew. When I found another family."

Asajj is silent. She hugs the pirate to her. "I envy your family. But I know it isn't for me."

"The offer is always there, Asajj." She smirks. "May need a good quartermaster."

"Tempting. But I cannot wait for the pain."

The catch in her voice cuts through Lassa Rhayme. They ride in silence.

~+~+~+~+~+

San Adis waits by the small door of the palace. A service door that he has never seen used. He is about to abandon his post at the appointed time when he spots a forlorn trio of figures ambling up to the door. He smirks as he sees one of the two-legged figures pull up on the reins of the four-legged one.

There is a cacophony of curses. The dewback finally stops. The two women dismount. "Hey, Cap," he says. "Enjoy the scenery?"

"I did until I got to this place. Then the smell kind of took away from the ambience."

She grows serious. "So how do we do,this, Guns?"

"Asajj can come with me and sneak to the boy. Captain, you can take the dewback around the main entrance. They will disarm you, but take you to Jabba."

Lassa looks at him. She unbuckles her gunbelt and hands it to Asajj. "Hang on to that, will you dear? Rather you have it than one of the piggies."

Asajj turns the full force of her glare on Adis. "Hey, Fatso. Don't like this plan of yours that sends her in alone."

"Tough shit, witch. If you can come up with a better idea, then have at it. Otherwise, move your skinny ass where I tell you to, and we might just come out of this alive."

The two glare at each other. Lassa rolls her eyes. "Could we please stop the pissing contest? We are all here to get Thorin out, and maybe keep from getting dead or wanted in the process. Remember that."

Both parties calm. "Give us a minute, Guns," Lassa says. He nods and walks in. 

The two warriors look at each other. "Try not to get dead, pirate scum." 

"You too, harpy," Lassa replies. "I'll see you when I see you." She pulls the Dathomiri's face to hers and bonds their lips together.

Asajj Ventress watches the tall pirate ride away towards the front door. After a moment, she turns and follows Adis.

~+~+~+~+~+

The mighty Jabba slowly opens his eyes at Fortuna's cough. His eyes narrow on the tall, blue-skinned woman standing before him, her head held high. She surveys him through amused bronze windows. 

"Captain Lassa Rhayme. She has come to beg for the life of the Twi'lek, mighty Jabba," Fortuna says in Huttese.

"No, that is where you are wrong, worm," the woman says. "I came to offer options to release him into my custody."

"You don't offer options, scum. Only Jabba gives options. They are limited."

Jabba looks Lassa up and down. "One, you could be taken to the sail barge and entertain Jabba's guests on your knees and on your back."

"What is behind door number two? What do you have in mind for Thorins'ecura?" Lassa asks.

"Eternal damnation in our fighting pit."

Lassa smirks. "How about I take his place in the arena? Might be entertaining."

"You would give yourself to a short life in our arena for a Twi'lek?" Jabba asks in his booming voice.

She stares at him, as if making a decision. "I would. But I would also offer something else, to you. To make the fight more interesting."

"Go on, scum."

"One fight. Winner takes all. I take your best fighter down, we go free. Free and clear. We will also make sure that you get your money, either in work or cash, at whatever usurious rates you deem necessary."

"And if you are vanquished?"

"Then, if I am alive, I will go to your sail barge and gladly serve your guests, in order to earn the money. My crew, including Thorin will depart Hutt space and earn the money for you."

"I pick the opponent?" Jabba asks.

"Of course, mighty Jabba," she says. _Fucking slug._

Jabba contemplates the woman. "Your offer is acceptable to me. Prepare to die, woman. One way or another."

He turns to the guards "Take her away and prepare her to fight."

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa looks down at her new clothing. A brief leather skirt covers her legs to the knees.

An even briefer top in leather provides some protection to her heart, as well as providing nothing for an opponent to grab hold of.

The large iron grate lifts in front of her. The guard shoves her into the pit. "The great pirate, Lassa Rhayme will fight for Jabba and his esteemed guests in the pit. It will be in settlement of a debt. A debt of theft. In the unlikely event she wins, her crew will go free and serve Jabba in the Outer Rim."

"If she loses, and she survives," Jabba lets the suspense build, "she will be given to all of the guests present in the audience for their entertainment."

_Marvelous_ , Lassa thinks. 

"And now for the pirate-queen's opponent."

_How hard can this be?_

"Rittaambiggo! The Kashyyyk Demonness!"

The opposite cage door opens. The largest Wookiee that she has ever seen walks out. Easily two and a half meters tall, covered with muscles and scars over her light yellow and black fur, the Wookiee glares at her through ocherous yellow eyes.

_You just had to say that, didn't you, Rhayme._


	14. 13. It's My Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard contact.

Lassa steps towards the behemoth gingerly. She can hear the roar of the small crowd of deviants above her. She makes no threatening moves. She knows that the enraged female has excellent hearing.

She can only hope that Rittaambiggo can speak Basic. "Hey, love, let's not be too hasty. Let's see if we can work together and find a way to burn this place down."

In answer, the Kashyyyk Demoness charges her. She manages to sideslip the charging fuzzball and wind up behind her. Her foot manages to catch the Wookiee under her ankle. 

The huge creature goes down face first into the stone floor. The crowd is silent for a moment. They erupt again when Rittaambiggo jumps to her feet, a tiny bit of blood in her nose.

_Well, I guess I know who the crowd favorite is._

Lassa circles her warily. She tries to talk once again. "Come on, darling, let's work together." She smiles carefully, in what she hopes is her most disarming grin.

The Wookiee suddenly reaches out and slaps her on the side of her face. Lassa can tell that the slap is pulled.

She collapses on her ass, her jaw feeling as if it has come unhinged. Her vision blurs from the blow. She tastes coppery blood in her mouth. She spits out several small mouthfuls.

She is gratified that no teeth come with the expectorant that she has launched. She staggers up to her feet. A low growl emits from the Wookiee. 

The pirate's Shyriwook is rusty, but she is fairly certain that Rittaambiggo is questioning her womanhood, as well as her parentage. 

_With an overlay of promises to twist me into new and different shapes._

Lassa grits her teeth and sends all of her strength into a deep punch. She prided herself on her ability to punch, as certain paramours could attest to.

The Wookiee staggers about three centimeters as blood flows from her lip where Lassa's punch had landed.

The Pantoran deflates for a moment, but is soon circling her opponent again. The Wookiee charges again, her arms moving around the pirate's thin body. Lassa manages to duck below the grasping arms. For half a second, she congratulates herself.

Until she realizes that she has misjudged her balance and slipped on some unknown substance.

Ritaambiggo is able to correct and seize the bicep of her left arm. She feels herself lifted by the muscle. Searing pain flows through at the point of contact; the vise-like grip on the arm. She feels the Wookiee toss her in her palm, readjusting her grasp; to grip the entire upper arm instead of the muscle. The other furry hand grasps her wrist and lets go of the upper arm. 

Lassa feels herself propelled through the air. 

Straight to the ground. She screams as she feels her shoulder give at the joint. As she flies true to the ground. 

She screams again as her side under the seized arm slams into the ground. A thousand knives penetrate her chest and lungs, as once again, she feels several ribs give. She tries to scramble for purchase on the ground as she feels herself lifted again, to reverse her course.

As she flies, she tries to brace for impact on her other side. 

She is unprepared.

~+~+~+~+~+

Thyla Secura sits at the pilot's station on the _Opportunity_. She thinks of her loved ones, now at risk. 

At risk to rescue her brother.

She smiles as she thinks of the two women now most probably in the heart of the rancor's den. Two women that she could tell were growing closer, in spite of themselves.

She is not religious; orphans and foster-children tended to not be. She sends prayers to whatever deities she can. That two women, her brother, and a new ally, a broken, compassionate gunner will come back to the ship.

"Thyla?" a quiet voice intrudes into her thoughts. She looks up. The Weequay master-at-arms, Sohlwey, motions her over. She notices that Gri, the young Nikto crewman, is seated at the comm console. She sighs and rises, walks over to the pair. "What?" the Twi'lek asks.

"You remember that contact telling you about the Twi'lek communicator? The one that was used to steal the slug's money?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Gri, here, may have something for you," the Weequay says. Thyla's hazel eyes lock on the Nikto. His jaw spikes flutter in embarrassment. She smiles gently and touches his cheek. "Go ahead, Mr. Gri. What do you have?"

"That communicator model that they spoke of? I did some research. It has a very distinctive signal leakage. It was a design flaw," he says. He smiles. "I found it. I checked it across the intel. It is the same."

"It's here?"

"Yeah. It is at Jabba's palace." Thyla laughs. She reaches down and kisses the young crewman on the cheek." Her eyes narrow. "How did you know how to find it?"

He looks at the master-at-arms. She nods. "I, uh, dabble with communications systems. It is the reason that I left home. I, uh, kind of sliced a bit into the cop's communications systems." He smirks at a memory. "I sent them everywhere but where they needed to go."

The laughter of the Twi'lek, as well as the Weequay is welcome. "I think I finally found somebody to get me off of this goddamned communications panel," Sohlwey says.

She notices Thyla's thoughtful expression. "Thy," Sohlwey says. "You got that look in your eyes. What are you thinking?"

"Gri. Do you think you can slice deeper into that comm? Maybe trace the money?'

He smiles and nods. "I think that I can."

"Gotta do more than think, kid. My brother's life depends on it. As does the Captain's now."

Gri sobers. "I can do it, Navigator. I'll find it."

"Good man, Gri. Get on it. Let Asajj or the Captain know."

Something tickles at Thyla Secura's heart and soul. Something that had disappeared from her when her brother had. When Lassa and Asajj had walked off into the desert to save him.

_Hope._

~+~+~+~+~+

Thorins'ecura lays on his too-short bunk in a cell in the dancer's quarters. A cell that isolates him from the others. His blue eyes are focused on the ceiling, as he contemplates what is about to happen. 

He is about to die. He is sure that he will survive at least the first couple of fights, but he is just as certain that he will not survive the day.

His mind's eye travels to the face of his sister, her joyous laughter that had never failed to lift his spirits. His eyes grow dark as he thinks that they truly only had five adult years together, since they had been reunited. 

Since they had traveled the galaxy learning their skills.

He smirks. _Us against the universe._

The lock to his cell door deactivates. He grimaces as Bib Fortuna walks through the door. The pale eyes survey him, up and down. "It is almost time, Rutian." His eyes narrow. "You still have time to make the right choice." Fortuna runs his hand down Thorin's bare chest. "You can choose me. You can choose life."

Thorin's eyes widen, as the majordomo slumps to the ground. The two Gamorreans are already on the ground. He looks out the door. A hooded figure in gray stands in the door, an energy bow in her hand. He realizes that she had merely touched the business end of the bow to the guards and Fortuna.

They would be out for a while; with horrible headaches on their awakening. He smirks as he recognizes the silver-gray eyes over the cowl of the hood.

"You look adorable in your long skirt, darling," a sharp voice with a slight hissing cadence emerges from the hood and cowl. 

"Well, I dressed up just for you, dear," he says. A familiar, shabby figure walks into the cell. "Gee, sweetie. Would you like to wait around for him to wake up?" Adis kicks the Twi'lek on the floor. 

Thorin follows the two out of the cell. "So now what? How do we get out of here? If I escape, without making it right with the slug, I might as well just find a hole and bury myself in it." He looks down. "As well as all of my friends and family."

"Well," Asajj says. "Your sister is working on it, apparently." She touches his cheek. "We do need to do something to get your boss's cute ass out of doing something stupid for you."

They see his eyes go distant. A smile flows over his face. "I think I got an idea, kids," he says.

He turns and head for the sound of loud roaring, deeper in the depths of the Hutt's palace.

As they leave, they can hear the roar of a crowd.

They don't hear the crowd fall into stunned silence.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa Rhayme tries to struggle to her feet. As she does, she attempts to catalog the hurts of her body. A body that feels as if it is failing as she lists the hurts. She looks up at the Wookiee through one eye, as her other is swollen shut. 

Pantoran blood is splashed on the grey floor, turning black as it dries. Both of her sides lance with pain, although her left side is the only one that feels as if a thousand knives are sticking in it. The other side is dulling to a steady ache.

She can only push off with her right arm, as her left hangs useless, the shoulder dislocated. Her split lips twist into a grin. _Who am I kidding? There isn't a square centimeter on my body that doesn't hurt_. Her smile dies. _Maybe my right elbow._

She hears the Wookiee give a low growl. Her eyes widen at her rusty translation skills. Instead of a threat, there is almost an apology for what she is about to do to the young Pantoran.

 _+I am sorry, young one, for what I am about to do. That I am going to have to tear you in pieces.+_ A grin creases the Wookiee's own split lips. _+You have come closer than anyone to beating me, little one.+_

"Why do you have to tear me apart, Rittaambiggo? I kinda like my limbs where they are?" she whispers.

 _+Call me Biggo. I have to or I will die. If you don't kill me, I will be fed to Jabba's Rancor, Pateesa. It is what happens to his prisoners and slaves who are no longer useful.+_ A mournful tone is heard in the hoots and growls. _+Even you will end up there eventually, little one.+_

Lassa smirks. "I have been promised to be the entertainment for the slug's guests on the sail barge. At least he chose something for me that I have never had complaints about."

There is low laughter from Biggo. _\+ At least you have a sense of humor. I haven't laughed in many months.+_

"Why are you still here? You could escape with no problem." Lassa asks. Without a word, she lifts the fur at her throat. Nestled there in the mass of hair is a metal collar. A metal collar with an electrical unit nestled to the right of center.

Right over a nerve cluster. 

A slave control collar. "You have an explosive charge as well?" 

_+I don't think so. This damned thing knocks me on my ass as it is.+_

The Wookiee stops as crowd begins to rumble with impatience. She sees a light in the pirate's bronze eye that remains open. "I think I can help with that, dear. Can you trust me?"

The Wookiee is silent. For a moment, Lassa thinks that she has overstepped. "At the worst, we'll both be lunch for Pateesa. I'll be the appetizer for your main course, sweetie," she says.

The Wookiee grins. _+You might be a bit stringy, girl.+_

"I've been told that I am kinda prickly. Might be hard to pass."

_+What is your name, pirate?+_

"My name is Lassa, dear."

_+Pleased to meet you, Lassa. Do your worst.+_

They hear screams coming from the entryway to the arena. The crowd's roar obscures the noise to them, as Lassa launches herself at Biggo.

Lassa's tortured ribs compress as the Wookiee squeezes. _That's it, dear. Make it look good._

She screams slightly. _Maybe not so good,_ she thinks as the pain rises.

Lassa climbs upward, to where her mouth is near Biggo's hairy throat. Near right of center.

Lassa teeth tears into what she finds.

The crowd roars louder.


	15. 14. King of Somewhere Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sarlacc is eternally hungry.

Thyla Secura stands watches while the _Opportunity_ sheds velocity as it roars over the wasteland. Sohlwey, the Weequay master at arms is at the controls, as they are getting low on pilots. 

A major reason sits at the comm console, a datapad in one hand, his other dancing over the controls of the signal board. Thyla smiles at their only hope of pulling everybody's fat from the fire.

A young runaway Nikto, barely out of adolescence. "Pull your finger out, Gri. We're burning daylight." She sees the jaw spikes twitch. _Hmm. Seems to happen every time me or Lassa talks to him._

_Wonder if Asajj affects him this way. Might have to test this hypothesis. Of course, she may scare the shit out of him, anyway._

She turns to the interim gunner. "Grezada, we are going to need you, sooner rather than later, I think."

The Muun nods, his eyes blank. _Great. We really need a gunner._

The navigator turns back to the forward screen. She sees their objective ahead of them. She purses her lips. "Action stations. Shields up." She nods at Solhwey. "Take us in, So. North landing platform. Our folks said that they would head there."

She sends a prayer out, again. For all down in the pit.

~+~+~+~+~+

San Adis and Asajj Ventress round the corner with Thorin in tow. Thorin is now clad in a pair of trousers that they had found on one of the human guards, as well as a pair of boots found on another. He had managed to snag an EE-3 carbine from the same scum.

He manages not to plow into the other two as they stop. The pilot sees the obese trainer, Malakili standing in front of the control panel. The handler's mismatched eyes widen as his hand goes for his whip. 

The Corellian slumps as two stun bolts strike him. Thorin runs over the the panel for the cage controls. He smiles as he finds what he is looking for. "Okay, Cuddles. Time to do your worst. He throws the lever as Asajj and San turn to open fire on the assorted guards that have entered the keeper area. He turns to join them. They hear roaring and screaming in the arena vicinity.

They can only hope that a Pantoran pirate captain's voice is not among the screams.

~+~+~+~+~+

The Pantoran pirate captain's vision begins to gray, as Biggo squeezes. Lassa cannot speak as she concentrates on her teeth.

Trying to ignore the pain in her teeth, that is. Her eyes widen as she looks over her shoulder.

"Oh, shit," she says in Biggo's ear. "Get ready, fuzzy," she continues. With a burst of effort, she feels her teeth meet.

She pushes away quickly to avoid the spark. She is only mostly successful.

She screams as the electricity from the device arcs through her body. Biggo manages to shove her further away from the device. Lassa slumps to the ground. Biggo begins to roar in triumph to the crowd, just as the angry Rancor finishes crunching the Gamorreans guarding the cage door of the arena. 

The crowd begins to add its own roar. The Rancor shakes its head at the noise. It leaps for the cage over the top of the arena. Its claws hang on to the cage, as guards in the audience chamber open fire on it.

The blaster fire only serves to make it more angry. It begins to pound the cage, testing its strength.

The crowd concentrates on the Rancor, after seeing Lassa lying motionless on the ground. Biggo pulls the remains of the slave collar off and lopes over to the pirate's body. She pokes at the young woman. 

The still working eye opens. _+Come on girl. Move your tiny ass.+_

"Nag, nag, nag," Lassa says. 

She allows the Wookiee to pull her up and sling her over her shoulder. They rush to a side entrance. Lassa manages to snag a blaster-ax from her vantage point. She closes her eyes as her former opponent charges through the large Rancor door.

~+~+~+~+~+

"Got it, Navigator!" Gri says excitedly. "I am in on that Twi'lek thing."

"You have control?" 

"Yep," he says, temporarily forgetting his fear of the female of any species. He laughs. 

"Find the money, lad," she says. She can feel the eyeroll from the master-at-arms. "Lad?" she asks with a dry voice. "What are, you, nineteen? Maybe three years older than him?"

"Mind your helm. Get ready to set us down."

"Found it," Gri says. "It was hidden in another person's accounts. Someone named Jad."

"You know what to do," the Twi'lek says. "Make sure it is in the owner of the communicator's accounts and broadcast it on all frequencies. Including the comm itself's frequencies."

~+~+~+~+~+

The High Constable of Yondu tries to get the attention of Jabba. Of anyone in the debauched audience. All of them are focused on the enraged rancor, Pateesa.

No one is paying attention to the Wookiee carrying Rhayme's body from the arena. _The only one that the Yondun wanted to make sure was dead. The troublesome woman that he wanted to hang to make sure that she was dead._

"Get her, dammit!" he yells. 

No one listens. Instead, they are transfixed by a hologram that suddenly appears. Suddenly appears from every comm in the chamber.

A hologram of account balances. Bib Fortuna takes that moment to stagger in the chamber. He is about to raise the alarm when he sees the hologram. His pale eyes narrow, his stun-addled head suddenly clear. ""Mighty Jabba. That is the signature of the money that was stolen. That was on its way to the....." He falls silent. 

"Whose is the account?" Jabba booms. There is piercing laughter from the monkey-like creature below his dais, Salacious Crumb, as all eyes fall on the name on the account, as it is translated from the account coding.

A name appears in Aurabesh. A name not mentioned for many decades; ever since the bearer ascended to a particular office. 

A particular office on a Mid Rim world that rests on the cusp of Hutt Space and is a haven for certain illegal fencing operations.

"Stop him," Fortuna yells in Huttese, his thin, gnarled hands pointing.

Pointing towards the portly figure shuffling quickly to an exit. Another figure seizes him. A smaller figure in black cloak and black armor. The figure flips the obese High Constable over their shoulder. He lands in a heap in the corner. Several guards point their axes at him. 

The small masked figure continues into the chamber, several other masked and armored figures behind him.

The figure bows to Jabba. Jabba watches as the High Constable is dragged before him. "Mighty Jabba," the Yondun starts. "I beg of you! I do not know how the money got in...."

"Silence!" the Hutt roars. Fortuna walks up. "My lord, Rhayme and her pirates are escaping with the prisoner. What shall we do?"

Jabba is silent, as he weighs the options. He looks at the account hologram from the Yondun's communicator. Sitting in the accounts is a figure that is at least five times the money stolen in the spice transaction. "Kill them if you can, but do not pursue them beyond the Dune Sea. They have safe passage for a few days on my world." The gargantuan crime lord gives a particular gruesome grin. "Jabba is in a particularly merciful mood. Even with that idiot rancor handler."

The Hutt looks almost rueful. "Somebody find me another Wookiee to be my champion in the arena."

His eyes fall on the half-Twi'lek soon-to-be-former official. "It has been a while since we have visited the Sarlacc. Perhaps he will be satisfied with just one feeding. A particularly weighty one."

The screams are heard throughout the chamber, as is the laughter of the denizens and its master.

The masked figure watches dispassionately. The sounds of blasterfire can still be heard from below.

~+~+~+~+~+

"Put me down, you big furry oaf," the pirate captain yells from her position near the Wookiee warrior's hip. She spits out a mouthful of fur. "Come on, Biggo!"

The Demoness of Kashyyyk ignores her. She manages to fight herself up to where she can at least see where the pair has been.

She looks to the right. "Shit! Watch it Biggo!" There is a series of blaster shots. Rittaambiggo slides to her knees and manages to drop Lassa. The Wookiee's eyes widen. Two of Jabba's thugs lay on the ground. 

The blaster-ax that Lassa holds is smoking. In spite of the injuries, the weapon doesn't waver. 

The Wookiee comes up on one knee and bows in obeisance. _+Life Debt, Lassa Rhayme,+_ is all that she says. Lassa moves over and lifts her head with her uninjured hand. "Nope, Big," she says, "you would've done the same for me, sweetie."

The Wookiee shakes her head. The both start at the sound of running footsteps. Lassa brings her weapon up.

She drops it as familiar faces slide to a stop. She feels the tears begin in her one uninjured eye. She limps over to the tall young Twi'lek. 

The other three can only stand there as they hold the embrace. Asajj finally taps Lassa on her bare shoulder. The pirate turns. Asajj smirks at the fighting outfit. The brief leather skirt and top. The leather fighting sandals. Her look turns soft as she appraises the pirate up and down. Lassa frees herself from Thorin with a final pat on his back and walks over to the bounty hunter. She reaches up with her right hand and pulls the cowl down.

Without a word, their lips meld. Their tongues touch each other as they breathe, as they continue living. 

It is the Tholothian that brings them back. "This is all well and good and everything, but I am sure everybody would like to be alive so that various bodily fluids can be exchanged, so we need to get our asses out of here." The other four smirk at the older man's blush. 

Blaster bolts find the range as they hurl themselves towards the landing platform, where they can hear more blasterfire and a beloved, recognizable engine signature.

The five fugitives burst into the dying suns' light. They run towards the ship.

It is at this moment that Biggo's injured leg collapses. Lassa screams, "No!" as several guards run towards her. She hurls herself over the Wookiee as the guards take their aim. She lifts her blaster-ax and braces herself.

The five Gamorreans are immolated in a burst of blaster-cannon fire. 

An old, black, _Nu_ -class assault shuttle screams over. Its wings waggle as as it disappears into the fading sunlight. 

Several crewmembers run up to assist Lassa and Biggo. They hustle the Wookiee up the ramp.

Lassa Rhayme turns and walks deliberately, unaided to the hatch. The rest of her crew watch her as she hobbles to the ship. She steps on the ramp as it begins to retract. She stops and turns and watches as the palace begins to shrink away.

Below her, a desiccated old Twi'lek, watches mournfully as the ship rises. _I'll miss the dancer,_ is his only thought.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa walks on the bridge. "Captain on the bridge," Gri says quietly. He reaches out from the comm console and touches his Captain on her uninjured arm. She smiles and nods to the young crewman. The ship shudders as Thorin takes over at the pilot's seat. Lassa slides into the co-pilot's chair.

Thyla sits in the command chair and looks at the sensor repeaters. "Couple of _Skiprays,_ Captain," she says. "Looks like a couple trying to make a name for themselves. No other pursuit."

Lassa turns back to the rear of the compartment. "Maybe our new Gunner can discourage them," she says, a smile on her still-oozing lips.

Adis's eyes widen. "You think you can find the gun tubs on a CR-90?" Lassa asks.

He smirks. "Yeah, Captain. Spent a few years on a _Consular_." His eyes grow sad. 

They then sharpen with determination. _Determination not to fail this Captain._

He turns and exits the bridge. "You think he can get out of the gun tub, once he finds it?" Asajj asks with a smirk.

"Don't know. Only care what he does in it."

They smile as the two blastboats disintegrate. With only two bolts from the ship's turbolasers.

She takes Asajj's hand in her own. They both watch the reunion between brother and sister.

The tears flows from both of the twins. As well as their Captain. A cold, heartless, ex-Sith squeezes the Captain's hand.

As she does, the Wookiee walks over and looks at the witch over the pirate's shoulder. Asajj nods and moves her other hand up the right forearm. Lassa's eyes widen as she feels the furry hand on her left shoulder. She starts to struggle.

Her scream cuts through the bridge as Biggo twists the arm and snaps the shoulder back in place. 

The crew, as well as Asajj and the Wookiee clears the bridge, except for Gri, who is trapped at the comm panel. All except the reunited twins, who are lost in each other's arms.

Words are screamed that Gri has never heard before, in at least three different languages.


	16. 15. A Love Song (From a Different Point of View)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery. Both from wounds and of a runaway Mirialan.
> 
> The Mirialan may not recover.

The smaller cloaked figure watches as the pirate vessel climbs away across the Dune Sea. She smiles behind her mask at the boldness. _I think Captain Sloane may be impressed with this report._

She turns back to Jabba. She bows. "Mighty Jabba, my employers send their regards and respect. They are glad that you recovered your funds and that the true culprit was exposed." The pitch of the modulator changes slightly. "Especially since we were afraid that the High Constable was going to implicate us in the theft."

Jabba stares at the figure balefully. "I half-believed that your employers were involved, Antol," the Hutt says. "We will transfer the money to you, to improve its provenance. But I believe that we might be taking one of your points away, because of our inconvenience."

The figure is silent, but seethes inside. "That is unfortunate, Jabba. Especially since, with the removal of the High Constable, your inroads into the Yondun markets are now closed."

Jabba's eyes bulge. _Or at least more_ , the figure thinks. "What do you mean, Antol?" the crime lord asks. "We have traditionally owned the High Constable."

"Not any more," the figure says, a note of triumph in the modulation. "The Republic has established a presence. The High Constable has already been appointed. At the request of the government, a Republic official will serve."

There is a smirk felt behind the mask. "Someone you'll find, who is not interested in dealing with Hutts, except on her own terms."

At that, the figure turns on her heels and leaves. After a moment, the armored and cloaked behemoths turn with her.

The figures are silent as they board the small freighter. The ship lifts off and turns for the upper atmosphere. The figure removes her helmet as she watches her companions remove their cloaks.

Figures now openly clad in the armor of Republic Commandos. All of them larger than the normal ARC troopers. The Commander pulls his bucket off. His cold amber eyes stare into hers. "So, Lieutenant, who is to be this new High Constable of Yondu?"

She smiles, her dark eyes flashing. "That would be me, Seventeen. In addition, I have been appointed as advisor to the Yondun government." The smile turns dark. "You know as well as I, what an 'advisor' can do."

He nods. "Do you think that you can handle the Hutts?" he asks. 

She is silent for a moment. "Yes." she finally says. "I have family, and I have my troopers."

Her comm signals. A middle-aged human with a skull's face pops up onto the comm. "Admiral Tarkin," she says. "Ahh, Lieutenant Antol," he says with an affected Coruscanti accent, "ready to begin our new experiment of more direct government of a sector?"

"Yes sir. I am. I just need to send my final report to Captain Sloane and I will be free and clear."

"Ah, yes. Captain Sloane and Admiral Yularen's little experiment of their own." He waves his hands. "No matter. It takes nothing from us." He turns to the clone. "Commander Seventeen, as soon as you can drop Lieutenant Antol off, you are to make best speed to my fleet near the Corellian border. I will brief you and your task force on their new assignment."

Alpha-17 nods. "As you say, Admiral."

"Lieutenant Antol," he says, "you will have to make do with local forces under your command and your authority, as well as the two companies of troopers that are already there." He nods and bows his head, a devilish grin on his thin features. "Good luck, High Constable."

~+~+~+~+~+

Wilhuff Tarkin turns to the man in the room with him. He bows. "Chancellor, it is done. Alpha-17 and his troops will soon be in their prepositioned areas, at your disposal."

"And this Antol woman?" Sheev Palpatine says smoothly. "She will serve us well, Chancellor. She will most probably be able to manipulate her family into bringing needed funds into our coffers."

The Supreme Chancellor nods. "Good. You appear to have bounced back from your defeat in the Togruta's trial, Admiral." Beneath the smooth exterior, Tarkin can detect the hint of menace in the Naboo's words. Menace overlaid with false pity. "The dear child was very nearly lying in front of a wall, her body torn and broken by blasterfire. Have you been able to track her whereabouts?"

"No, Excellency. She has disappeared. We hear reports of 'good deeds' being performed; people being saved from thugs, or helped in other ways, but we cannot verify them."

"Most unsettling that we cannot track her and give the young lady her just reward. Do you think that the Jedi know where she is?"

"No, Excellency. They are not aware."

The Chancellor nods. "No matter. All will be settled, in good time."

~+~+~+~+~+

The light blossoms in Lassa Rhyame's mind as Ventress's mouth plays over her center. The Pantoran's screams can be heard throughout the cabin as the explosions rise and fall. 

A final push over the cliff and Lassa rises and collapses back onto the bed. Asajj jumps up as the pirate's head strikes the headboard in her collapse.

Lassa's eyes are closed. The Dathomiri moves quickly to her head. She relaxes as she sees the smile over the azure features. She moves back to Lassa's legs and places a gentle kiss at her entrance. Her fingers move through the lavender curls. She looks up at the head of the bed. Lassa's features are relaxed and her breathing is slowing. Asajj smirks. She swipes her tongue over the juncture of of Lassa's right leg with her hip. Lassa's eyes snap open. She calms and smiles.

"Witch," is all that she says. 

It had been only that morning that the pirate captain had been released from bacta and the med-droid's less-than-tender care. She no longer felt pain at every breath and could move her shoulder without crying out.

Asajj knee-crawls her way up to Lassa's head. She stretches out beside the pirate. She reaches down and tenderly kisses her. 

Lassa closes her eyes as she marvels at the mingled flavors on the bounty hunter's lips. Asajj pillows her head on her upstretched arm. She gazes at Lassa.

Lassa reaches over and places her palm on Asajj's face. "Thank you," the pirate simply says.

Asajj smiles. "Anytime, pirate scum."

They are silent. Lassa turns on her side and pulls the pirate close to her face and where their skin touches along the length of their bodies. "How much longer are you going to stay, Asajj?" Lassa asks.

Ventress's eyes close. "Maybe a couple of more days, Lassa. Want to get my fill of Pantoran." Her eyes crinkle with a quiet smile. A smile that turns into a deadly smirk. "Had a steady diet of Twi'lek while you were floating in bacta, pirate." Their shared laughter rises. 

When it subsides, Lassa looks down, her eyes distant. She looks back up "I know the answer to this, already, from both of us, but I have to say it." She kisses the witch. "The offer still stands, if you want a place, Asajj," she says. 

Asajj contemplates the offer. "It is tempting, Lassa. I haven't had a home that hasn't been destroyed in quite a while." She pulls in closer. "But I think it is best if I move on. My home is that little ship docked with yours."

Lassa is silent, but nods. "I think that might be best for both of us, Ventress. I honestly think that we would kill each other in a ten-day if you were to move in."

She touches her forehead to the Dathomiri. "I think you are right," Ventress says. "You are always welcome here, Asajj, if you need a sanctuary for awhile," Lassa finishes.

They both fall silent, their minds a million kilometers away. Asajj shakes her head with an eyeroll. "What, Rhayme? Out with it."

"What? Oh. Nothing. Just thinking about how I will regain my crew's trust again after my latest asshole Quartermaster."

Asajj taps Lassa on the forehead with her forefinger. "Hey. Dumbass. Pretty sure that you taking on a pissed off Wookiee in the place of one of your crewmembers, with the resulting boo-boos might have kind of canceled out taking that loser Tahlen between your legs." Lassa moves her mouth up and mock-snaps at the offending digit.

Asajj grows serious. She kisses Lassa quickly. "Reminds me," she says, as she pulls her comm out. "Got a message from my contact. She sent me all of the messages that Jabba received implicating Tahlen."

She hands the device to Lassa. Lassa looks at her and sighs. She pulls out a pair of reading glasses from beside the bed and drops them on her nose to the Dathomiri's smirk. 

Asajj watches as she reads. Her lavender eyebrows gradually rise nearly into her hairline. Her azure skin turns darker as she reads further. She sets the comm down on the bed and removes her glasses. She very deliberately drops the reading glasses back into the drawer.

"I don't know how I didn't see this. How I didn't catch it," she whispers.

"What, dear?" Asajj asks. "You didn't even read the whole thing."

Lassa slowly picks up the comm. She points to a word on the holoscreen. "See that word, there?"

Asajj reads it; tries to sound it out. " _Zheerlok?_ What about it? What language is it?"

"I have heard only one person use it in conversation, because he was too stupid to learn the Basic word for Twi'lek."

"It's Mirialan."

Asajj is quiet as she digests this. "Asajj, could you find someone for me? I have a little bit of money set aside..."

It is the Nightsister's turn to place her lips on Lassa to silence her. "You don't have to pay me, pirate." She looks at Lassa archly. "At least not in money." Without a word, Lassa's mouth fastens on the ex-Sith's breast. The blonde woman gasps, but manages to find words. "Full disclosure, though," she says as her mind leaps. "I have already found him. A certain Twi'lek navigator put a trace on the other runabout."

Her breathing quickens. "I will reveal where it is if you.....if you keep doing that. He isn't farrrrr!"

The rest is lost in a medley of cries as the pirate moves down her body with her lips and tongue and the occasional tooth.

~+~+~+~+~+

Mirv Tahlen lies next to a Lethan Twi'lek dancer. His eyes are locked on the ceiling as the woman snores next to him.

He stares at the ceiling as tries to figure out how to extricate himself from his situation. He has the money from the accounts on _Opportunity,_ but that will not last.

Not with the lifestyle he had accustomed himself to with the Blood Bone Order. He rolls his eyes. _Pretentious poodoo._ A product of the previous Captain, Dolros. Made to make it sound like there were more ships than one old CR-90.

Tahlen sneers as he thinks of the wool that he had pulled over Lassa Rhayme's eyes. _Or other parts_. Tahlen looks at himself in the mirror through the open door of the 'fresher. He smoothes his mustache as he touches his face, preening in the reflection.

Tahlen hears a low rumble from the docking bay that the lodging is attached to. His eyebrows raise. The pinnace is the only ship in that bay. He swings his legs out of the bed. He reaches for his pants.

His eyes grow wide and for an instant fear moves into them as he sees the door starting to expand with heat.

The heat consistent with sustained blasterfire.

He manages to lift his pants up from the floor. His hand closes around the blaster's grip. The door is propelled across the room. The Twi'lek dancer screams. 

Lassa Rhayme stands framed in the door. Behind her, the pale bounty hunter stands with an amused glance. Now that the door is open, Tahlen can hear the roar of his pinnace's engines. He feels the room shake as it lifts into the sky. The noise recedes.

Lassa's eyes are cold. She moves the bronze gaze to the red-skinned women. She smiles softly for a moment at the young woman. Her gaze turns hard. "Get out," she says tersely.

The dancer gathers her clothes and runs naked out the door. The bounty hunter watches her leave appreciatively.

He realizes that Lassa holds her smoking blaster on him. He drops his. "Pants, too, you useless son of a bitch," she says.

He drops them. The witch looks down at him. 

And laughs.

For the first time, Mirv Tahlen seriously doubts whether he can talk his way out of this one.


	17. 16. Anything, Anytime, Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ex-Quartermaster runs. 
> 
> Not quite fast enough.

Mirv Tahlen looks from blue eyes to bronze. Both look at him like a new kind of Mirialan worm. 

One that they are about to squash.

"Lassa.....," he starts.

"Don't, Tahlen. Unless you are going to tell me why." she says.

"Why what?" he asks. 

"Why you would betray Mal to the rope on Yondu?"

"What? No? I would never betray Mal. No!"

His voice is terror-stricken. He moves his hand from covering his groin to up in a placating gesture. He backpedals and falls over the bed. He manages to gain his feet. "No, Lassa. I would never betray anyone to the rope. I respected Mal. He didn't like me, but I respected him."

"Why should I believe you, Mal? Everything that comes out of your piehole is a lie. It has always been a lie."

"I am not lying about this, Lassa. You have to believe me."

"You said you would never betray anybody to the rope," she says quietly. "How about to be eaten by a Rancor? How about to lose a hand and be someone's toy for the rest of their miserable existence? How about that, Tahlen?" Her blaster hand is steady. "I know you betrayed Thorin, Tahlen. It makes me hard to believe that you didn't betray Mal. Especially since Thorin suspected that someone on the crew was working for the High Constable."

"Lassa, I didn't work for that slug. I swear. I betrayed Thorin because I thought that he was about to find out that I..." He stops.

"Find out what, Tahlen?" Lassa asks, her eyes narrowing.

"I held back loot from our last six months of jobs," he says. "I was stealing from the crew."

"Like you stole from the accounts before you left."

He looks down. "Yes. I did."

"So why did you think Thorin was on to you?" Asajj asks. 

Tahlen takes this opportunity to lift a pair of underwear from the floor to cover himself. Ventress shakes her head and wags her finger at him. He drops the garment. He slumps. "He was sniffing around the comm logs a lot. I was afraid he was going to find my contacts with the buyers to sell the stuff I skimmed."

She stares at him, realization striking her. "He was checking the comm logs for me, Tahlen. I asked him to collate our different contacts. So we could see who we could afford to dump, since they weren't really productive."

There is silence in the room as Lassa sits. Asajj's eyes flash at her. "No, no, no, no, twit. You don't get to blame yourself for this. It is because this piece of shit was greedy and a thief. You didn't do anything."

Asajj looks at the Mirialan. "Lassa? Do you want me to kill him? Slow or fast?"

Lassa looks from Tahlen to Ventress. From Ventress to Tahlen. Asajj can tell that she is weighing. The poor choices that Lassa has made before in this realm, have up to now, never put her loved ones at risk.

Finally, she shakes her head. "No. That would be the easy way."

She looks at her soon-to-be former Quartermaster. "Jabba is charging us for his trouble and his dead soldiers. Plus the fact that he lost his prize Wookiee." She smiles softly at that thought. "I wonder if he might slack off on us if we give him the one that tried to conceal the Yondun's theft."

Asajj smiles as a look of panic rushes to the handsome, greenish-yellow features. "You are evil, Lassa Rhayme." The bounty hunter says. The smile turns into a smirk. "I like it."

"No, Lassa. You're not a murderer. You wouldn't do this," he cries, his voice rising in pitch and volume. "You wouldn't dare," he breathes.

"Wouldn't I?" the Pantoran says quietly. She pulls her comlink out. "Hey, Stretch," she says as Thorin answers. "Have our new signals midshipman send a comm to Jabba. Attach this holofile to it. Tell him that the instigator of all of his problems is on Midlothian." She clicks off at Thorin's acknowledgement.

She looks at Tahlen whose eyes are darting to the door. "So, I wouldn't dare, Tahlen?"

"You've killed me, Rhayme," he says with a sneer. "Why don't you just shoot me, now?"

Lassa smiles at Asajj, then looks back at the Mirialan, her smile fading. "Still on the table, bud."

Her comlink buzzes. "Rhayme," she says. 

"You must have impressed Jabba," Thorin says. "Either that or he is saving us for something later. He has, as he says, decided be merciful to you."

"Thanks, Stretch," 

Lassa stands and walks up to Tahlen. He flinches as her hand moves towards him. 

She grasps the gold object hanging from a similar chain around his neck. She yanks. He yelps as the chain does not give. She continues to tug without expression. He finally ducks his head; the chain slips over it, into her hands. She looks at the object. A single gold Republic credit.

The symbol of office for the Quartermaster of her ship. The Captain's right hand in a pirate crew. She looks at Tahlen. For a moment, her eyes are soft as they remember the few good times. 

She looks at Asajj. A woman worth five of this specimen standing naked in front of her. A woman that she wishes could stay with her crew. A woman that she wishes she could place this icon around her neck, to rest between her breasts. Over her heart.

Lassa Rhayme makes her decision. Her bronze eyes harden as she locks with Tahlen's. The ex-Quartermaster's eyes widen as he sees something in them. Something deadly. Deadly at least for him.

"Run."

That one word from the pirate jump starts the Mirialan's fear. He pushes past them both and moves towards the door. Both women let him. He stops to grab clothing, but continues as he sees Lassa walking towards the door.

She had holstered her blaster as the situation had calmed. She looks at the chain in her hands. The Pantoran looks up. Tahlen is pounding down the corridor. Asajj sees the grin spread across the pirate's face. She matches it with one of her own.

Lassa draws her blaster and sights down the barrel. She drops it ever so slightly.

Tahlen stumbles as the bolt strikes him on his right side.

His right rear cheek. 

Lassa returns the still-smoking blaster to its crossdraw holster. She looks at the chain again. A symbol of trust.

Asajj walks over to her. She takes the chain from the young woman and looks at it for a moment. She places it over Lassa's head. 

She smooths the credit in its place. She takes the opportunity to touch Lassa's breasts. She kisses her. She notices the troubled look in her new ally's eyes.

Lassa looks at Asajj. "So, pirate, what is bothering you? You just shot your ex-boyfriend in the ass and betrayed him to a Hutt. Why have you got that look on your face?"

"Didn't know I had a look," Lassa says quietly. "Trust me, darling. You always have a look," Asajj says. 

Lassa is silent for a moment. Asajj actually wonders if she has overstepped, this time. "Just wondering who actually betrayed Mal to the High Constable."

Asajj raises a pale eyebrow. "Thorin said his contact said that the transmission actually came from Tattoine. Nobody from the crew had been to Tattoine until I sent Thorin to poke around after he found the link." Lassa says. 

"Lassa, do you think you might be looking in the wrong place? Could Thorin be wrong?"

The pirate is thoughtful. "No. My gut tells me somebody betrayed Mal. He was careful. He had evaded capture on Yondu many times."

"There is another possibility for the mechanism," Asajj says. "Seps use it. It is a signal relay. It is actually on one world, but the actual transmission could be anywhere."

"Where could you hide something like that?" Lassa asks. "Could be anywhere, but it is most likely in a droid. Helps to be mobile and have some computing capability."

"Great," Lassa says,"Damned thing could be anywhere."

"I say we get back to Tattooine, dear," the ex-Sith says. "Might help us narrow things down a bit." 

"Plus, she says, as she smirks. "It is a few hours back there, in hyperspace. We could have a little fun in my room."

Later, as Lassa lies next to Asajj, her hand runs over the chain and its symbol. She thinks of her many mistakes with lovers and partners. She smiles ruefully as she looks out at the controlled chaos of hyperspace. Her hand drifts over the smooth skin of the warrior. 

Of her comrade. Her hand goes back to the medallion around her neck. _Will I ever trust anyone with the lives of my crew again?_ is her last thought as she falls asleep

Ventress slowly awakens. She looks down at the now-sleeping pirate. She smiles at the look of Lassa asleep with the medallion in her hand.

_Will you ever find anyone worthy of you and your crew, my pirate? Who will always watch your back?_ Asajj thinks.

She gathers the pirate in her arms. They both sleep, in rest and respite.


	18. 17. A Lot to Drink About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partings, revelations, and the beginnings of salvation.

Leeza Antol looks around at her new home as the High Constable and Republic military advisor. Her distaste is evident at the ornate and garish decoration from her predecessor. She smirks as she thinks of his probable fate, of what she had heard of the Sarlacc.

Of the stories of victims digested and killed over the space of decades.

Leeza sits at the ornate desk and begins to run her hands over the surface of the ancient wood. She sighs and moves to the undersurface where the top overlaps the base. She smiles as her finger runs over a slight depression. She takes a deeper breath and presses the digit into the blemish. She is rewarded by a soft pop. 

A small, concealed hatch pops open in the side of the desk. She gazes into the compartment. There are only two objects concealed.

A small comm that looks to be of Twi'lek manufacture. A datapad. She pulls both objects from the compartment. There is a marking on the comm in Aurabesh. _Dug._

She pulls the badge of office from her neck. She compares it to the slot on the datapad. She inserts it and twists to the right. A line of print starts to flow over the small screen. Her eyes widen as she realizes what she has in her possession.

Under her control. She pulls her own datapad from her bag. Leeza scans the report on the Blood Bone Order and Lassa Rhayme that she had provided to Captain Sloane for her project.

The genesis of a plan begins to form in her mind. Admiral Tarkin and Admiral Yularen are rivals in the power structure of the Republic Navy. A contact that can provide her with information on one of Yularen's pet's project would cement her standing in his orbit. Rumors abound that Tarkin was about to be named a sector Governor as an extension of the experiment that she was already a part of.

An experiment moving quickly to direct control of Republic members by Republic officials, rather than locals.

She pushes the actuator button the Twi'lek comm. The lights move on the panel as it connects. A holo pops up above the device.

The representation of a dyspeptic Dug is seen in the holo. "Who is this? How did you get this comm frequency?" His strangely accented voice is filled with suspicion.

"I am now the High Constable of Yondu. You apparently report to me now."

"You? A mere slip of a girl? Don't make me laugh," he sneers.

Leeza doesn't rise to the bait. She merely smiles. "I should let you know, that I have the comm frequencies of another 'mere slip of a girl' who might find it odd that her Chief Engineer is in communication with the government official who hanged her beloved mentor."

"Don't threaten me, girl. I don't scare easily."

"Really? I saw your eyes when I mentioned talking to Rhayme." Her eyes harden. His widen at the next words from her mouth.

"I own you. Stand by for my next call."

~+~+~+~+~+~

Asajj Ventress sips her drink as she watches as Lassa Rhayme is engulfed in a furry hug. The Dathomiri's eyes pain as she sees in the near past the pirate being squeezed by the same Wookiee arms.

With much more angry intent. She smiles as she sees Lassa watching as the Wookiee leaves the cantina.

The young captain is watching with a wistful expression on her beautiful face. She shakes her head and turns back to the table. 

Ventress passes the bottle to Lassa. Lassa pours a healthy slug into her glass and downs it. Se pours another and takes a smaller sip. "You okay, pirate?"

Lassa swallows and nods ruefully. "Yeah. Just wish she could stay. She is an engineer. From what she said, she was pretty good. Served on several ships. Good captains."

"Could solve your Dug problem."

Rhayme looks down. "Yeah. But more importantly, I am worried about her. She is going back to Kashyyyk to fight the Seppies." Her eyes tear briefly. "Sorry, Asajj," she whispers.

Asajj takes Lassa's hands in hers. "No worries, pirate. I am trying not to live in the past."

"Wish I could talk you into staying. At least for a while." She smirks. "Witch."

"Scum."

"If I could, I would, Lassa," Ventress says. "But I need to get out there and earn a bit. Earn a bit of fuck-you money." Her pale complexion darkens under the blond mop. "Maybe I can figure out a way to rid the galaxy of Dooku."

For a moment, in her mind's eye, Lassa can see an elderly man, surging with the power of a dark version of Ventress's arcane abilities.

She gasps as she feels the pain from her witch. Asajj rubs her hands gently. "Easy, Lassa."

Lassa feels her breathing calm. _Well, mostly. Something else may be causing the rapid breathing,_ she thinks as she concentrates on the ex-Sith's soft skin on hers.

Asajj pulls her to her feet. They walk outside into the blinding twin sunlight. Lassa pulls her into her arms under the awning of the alley. Their mouths meld as their tongues touch softly. Their lips break apart slowly. Asajj feels the smile against her lips. "You be careful out there, Lassa. Clear skies."

"You too. Asajj. Come see us."

"I will. Maybe in a few weeks, dear." She smirks. "Tell the twins to keep it warm for me."

"I might," Lassa says. "They will probably get plenty of practice between now and then."

Their laughter rises together. It is a rare sound from the bounty hunter. Pure laughter without any anger or vitriol.

They embrace again. Asajj thinks as the Pantoran's arms tighten around her, that she has come quite far in the last few days. 

Far enough to let her past go. To remember her dead but not wallow in grief.

_Not quite,_ she thinks as Karis and her sisters center in her mind. As Ky and her first master do as well. She breaks away from Lassa with a kiss to the forehead.

Lassa turns to head back to the _Opportunity._ She stops and turns. She looks at Asajj and smiles. "May the Force be with you, witch," she says.

Ventress can only nod. She watches the pirate recede into the crowd.

She turns to head back to her own ship. As she does, her mystical watcher tingles at the back of her neck. She ducks as a blaster bolt finds the space where her head had been a second before.

She turns to the source. A tall woman wearing a Republic clone trooper's helmet; a Separatist cog in the center of the forehead.

"Hey, bitch, guess I might get to take your ugly head to Dooku after all."

Her eyes widen as the yellow blade of a lightsaber flares, deflecting her bolts. Ventress pulls her blaster with her opposite hand and shoots over her saber arm at the Corellian that can usually not be far behind the Separatist woman.

"Think I might get a taste, Leve, before you kill her?" Jaze Stane asks as he manages to duck her blaster shot. 

"I don't know, dear. You might break it off in her. She is like ice," the helmeted woman snarks. She falls silent as the 'ice' deflects a bolt into the face of her helmet. She is knocked backwards, but leaps to her feet. She manages to throw the damaged armor away. Her ice-chip blue eyes lock on the bounty hunter hurrying through the alleyway.

She and her husband look at one another. Jaze nods and climbs to the top. Leve follows the ex-Sith's path in the alley. 

As the three figures move out of the alley, another figure watches through the visor of a Mandalorian _buy'ce._

She smiles behind the helmet. She jumps to the next highest building and pursues the three.

~+~+~+~+~+~

Asajj turns into the alley of her docking bay. She checks her rear and then stops to take a breath. A blaster bolt strikes her right shoulder and slams her to the ground. She struggles to get up. She calls her saber to her other hand and ignites it in a flourish.

She deflects the next bolt to the parapet that the Corellian is standing on. The woman screams as he falls to the ground. He lands on his shoulder. His right arm is twisted at an odd angle at the shoulder.

Leve Stane runs to him. "I'm okay," he says. "Kill the bitch." He manages to climb to his feet. He draws his garish DL-44XT takes aim at the ex-Separatist. Leve pulls her own extra blaster as they look at Ventress.

Ventress waits, her saber held in front of her. She detects the couple's fingers tightening on triggers.

Both of the hunters leap for cover as a fusillade of blaster shots strike around them.

All three of the combatants look up. The Mando interloper from the previous attack hovers, her jetpack flaring. Asajj wastes no time. She jumps up and feints to the couple. 

She flips to the top of the next building. As she runs to her docking bay, her right arm hanging useless, she looks at the Mando. She remembered that Lassa had fired on her the last time. 

The Mando looks at the warrior. She holsters her blaster. She brings the first fingers of her left hand to her brow in a jaunty, two-fingered salute. She turns and flares away. 

Ventress thinks of Latts Razzi's 'Mando takeout.' She makes a note to tell Latts to keep a closer eye on her playtoys.

Leve Stane pulls her husband to his feet. She leans on him as the deflected blaster bolt wound in her hip catches. "Think it is too late for you to get back into Intel?" he asks with a grin.

As if on cue, her holocom activates. The visage of an elderly man with red eyes stare at them. "Commander Stane. All is forgiven," Count Dooku says. "Welcome back to the fold."

His face splits into a malevolent smile. "I have clones for you to kill."

~+~+~+~+~+

Asajj Ventress watches as the sandball recedes. She thinks of a pair of strong bronze eyes, as she lives.

As she moves to her future, she thinks of a firm anchor on an old pirate ship in the Outer Rim.


	19. 18. The Good Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another fight begins. Another ally is found.
> 
> More problems arise.
> 
> Bonds are reforged.

Lassa looks at her assembled officers, or at least what is left of them. They stare back at her with expressions that run the gamut from love and respect, to wary uncertainty and gratitude, to outright contempt and distrust. She sees another face, indistinct, just in the edge of her peripheral vision. An older face, now gone, looking at her with pride and love.

She shakes her head of the vision. "I have made the decision to not fill the position of quartermaster after the...." She searches for the correct words. She gives up. "...asshole that we had; no, that _I_ had serving in that capacity."

Thorin and Thyla look at one another and smile. Adis nods. Geikha and his new propulsion assistant, Vizago, look at one another. Lassa's eyes narrow at the pair.

They suddenly put their full attention on the Captain at the combined glares from the other officers.

Lassa continues. "I will make this pledge now. That I will do better at listening to input from some of you on my choice, if and when I do fill it."

Her quantifier of 'some' is not lost on them. 'Some' are satisfied. 'Others' are not. At least one is unsure of his place.

Unsure until he notices his Captain smiling warmly at him. A smile of approval he had last seen on a young Republic naval officer. 

He can only swear to himself that he will not let this captain down as much as he felt that he had let the other one down.

He starts as he realizes that Lassa is talking about him. He concentrates on what she is saying. "I am very pleased at our newest addition, San Adis. He proved himself a great addition when he backed Asajj up when she was saving Thorin's virtue from Fortuna," the dancer and his sister both snort at this, "and when he took over the guns to defend us."

"We need to concentrate on rebuilding his department since both the gunner's mate and senior gun Captain proved themselves useless."

"I think that we also need to look at getting a full time cook. As much as I appreciate our new senior midshipman's willingness to step up, I am not sure we need to be subjected to Nikto delicacies." At least three of the assembled laugh at Mr. Gri's earnest willingness, as well as his hapless attempts to feed their captain.

She shakes her head at the sullen expression on her Engineering department's faces. Or at least sullen on the Chief's face. The Devaronian's face is one of respectful inscrutability.

She sighs. "Thank you all. Dismissed." She jerks her eyes in the new gunner's direction to Thorin. He nods and touches Adis's shoulder before he goes.

The door closes behind the engineers. "Thanks, Thorin. I am asking you three to stay because I think that you will be the three that take on most of the quartermaster's duties. You will be the glue that holds this crew together."

The three look at one another and then the captain. They nod. "Whatever you need, Skipper," Adis says. 

"What about those two charmers, Lassa?" Thorin asks, indicating the door. "I don't trust the Dug," she says. "Vizago, the jury is still out on. He may even be a better engineer than the Dug."

"That's a pretty low bar, Lassa, seeing that my left asscheek may be a better engineer than Geikha," Thorin says. Their shared laughter rises. Lassa almost tears up at the bond that seems to be reforged.

She sobers. "Watch them," she says simply. All three nod. Thorin puts his arm around Adis at Thyla's look. "Come on Gunner. Let's see how you are at making Gunner's Punch."

"Pretty good. Can probably curl your lekku with it, son," the Tholothian says. "Maybe in your dreams, Husky," the pilot says.

"Maybe after a few drams, you can teach me some of those dance moves, sweet-cheeks."

The snark continues as the door closes behind them. Both women look fondly at them. 

Thyla sees Lassa's smile grow wistful. "Hey, Cap. You okay?" she asks quietly. 

Lassa is silent for a moment, her eyes still wistful. "Yeah," she says. "I am good."

"I miss him, too, sweetie," Thyla says, "I think that Mal would approve of Adis. He has a big heart when it comes to his crew. Just like Mal did."

Lassa nods. "May have been what got him killed. His love for his crew. His sense of honor," she says. "No, Lassa. What got him killed was a scumbag government lackey. I think that most of this crew, with at least two notable exceptions, would do the same for each other, if the chips are down."

She reaches over and kisses Lassa. "Just as I am damned sure my captain would for all of us."

Her expression grows lighter. "So, you couldn't use your wiles to convince Asajj to stay?" 

Lassa smirks. "Apparently not," she says dryly. She shakes her head. "We both agreed that we would probably kill each other in two days, tops. Won't stop her from visiting, though."

There is another kiss, longer this time. "Just so you share with Rin and me," the navigator says archly.

"We'll see," Lassa says with a knowing smile.

"Gotta figure out our cook situation first, though." the Captain muses.

"May have a solution to that, already, Captain."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Met a guy in Mos Espa when I was trying to get a line on getting in to Jabba's palace. He was working in one of the cantinas. His food was pretty good. Plus he looked like he could handle himself in a fight. Corellian. He is traveling with a Wookiee. A kid. Fuzzy looks like he may be a few kilometers of bad road, as well."

Thyla leans in conspiratorially. "The cook is also very easy on the eyes."

"Great. Just what I need. Another easy-on-the-eyes-male that my crew will grow to hate me for."

The navigator shakes her head. "No. I don't think so. I think he might be good for the crew. He is a smartass, but kind of quiet. Got his commcode."

"Contact him tomorrow. Set up a meet. It will have to be quick. We may have settled things with the Hutt, but we should probably not test him too much."

"I'll have him meet you in Mos Eisley, rather than Espa. Less slug influence."

Lassa nods. "You feel like staying the night, Thy? Just for company?" 

"I'd love to, Cap, but Rin and I have a date with one of the engine crew. Might be good to build a little goodwill, there."

Lassa's eyebrow raises. She smiles. "Still trying to work Engineering?" The Twi'lek mirrors her smile and nods. "Okay, girl. Keep it warm for me," Lassa says, a catch in her voice.

"Oh, it is going to be warm alright." Thy pulls her into a deep embrace.

Lassa is thoughtful as she leaves.

~+~+~+~+~+

A crewmember walks into the deserted passageway near the cargo holds. He looks around furtively, every few seconds, until he comes to a 'T' intersection. He looks again and travels down the starboard side. He stops and pulls out a comm. He looks one final time and opens a channel. An cog pops up. A cog angled rather than in the circle of the Republic version.

A cog mostly seen on vessels and troops of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

Cikatro Vizago smiles and begins to speak.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lassa Rhayme watches from a rear booth in a small cantina in Mos Eisley. She sees the bounty hunter corner and smiles wistfully, as she thinks of a pair of silver-blue eyes against pale skin under white-blond hair. Of endless amounts of snark. As well as endless amounts of pain.

Of surprising comfort.

She watches as a young Wookiee walks into the bar. The barkeep immediately yells _we don't serve no younglings in here_. The Wookiee ignores him and walks back to the designated booth. Lassa watches him for a moment. The human part of this duo is nowhere to be found.

The pirate's bronze eyes narrow. The appointed time passes. More minutes tick by. Her anger grows as she continues to watch the crowd.

 _Not into game playing, dear,_ she thinks to herself.

She stands and starts to walk out of the bar. A warm drawling voice breaks into her anger. "Going somewhere, Captain?" the voice says. She whirls. In another booth, a hooded figure sits. He reaches up to his hood, revealing his face.

A face that was decidedly not a Kiffar with the yellow facial band that had been sitting there a minute before.

Or at least she thought that he had been.

Instead, a pair of green eyes looks at her with warmth and humor, mixed with a small amount of wariness. The eyes gaze from a thick beard and long, shaggy, fair and dark brindled hair. A crooked grin flows to the even features. She tries to remember that she is angry, but Thyla's description comes to the forefront of her mind.

_Kinda easy on the eyes._

She curses silently. "I don't like being kept waiting, bud," she says angrily. 

"I don't like being dead because I didn't wait to see who was going to ambush me," he replies evenly.

In spite of herself, Lassa Rhayme walks over to the young Wookiee's booth. The young one watches both of them expectantly. The human rises and saunters over.

"Heard you are looking for a cook."


	20. Epilogue- I Have Found Me a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The present remembers the past and lives for the future.

Lassa Rhayme climbs to consciousness. Jame Blackthorn, or Taliesin Croft as he was known at the time, sits in her mind's eye in the dingy cantina, his bearded face marked by the crooked grin.

The first time that she had ever laid eyes on him. Her ghosts unaccountably stand behind the Jame of the past. The ghosts pull closer to her. With horror, she sees that Jame has faded away. Her dead are in the forefront of her vision; their bodies ravaged with the manner of their death. 

Mal is there, his face blackened and a wound around his neck. Asajj stands there, her electricity-ravaged veins prominent in her pale face. 

Thorin Secura watches her with his quirked smile. As he moves, she sees that his right lek is severed at the tip; a gaping wound on his back in line with the lek still smokes.

She screams.

Lassa starts awake, a gasp erupting from her mouth. She feels warm hands on her shoulders, pushing her back down. 

As she opens her eyes, the most beloved sight fills her vision. Her heart bond leaning over her, pushing her back down to the bed. Lassa sees the scar on her chest has healed through her open uniform shirt. She feels Dani's hands running through her hair. Her lips touch her heart-bond's. She notices that several people are standing around her bed, looking anywhere but at the two women kissing each other, their tongues caressing together.

As they reluctantly break away, Lassa sees Jame Blackthorn watching them both with a mixture of amusement, love, and raw relief. She sees a tinge of sadness there, as well, but it is well hidden with his grin.

"What happened?" she asks. "Last thing I remember was standing next to Dani's bed after the ChEng gave me a damage report."

Dani smiles down at her. "Imagine my surprise to wake up in pain and look over and see my stubborn bitch of a heart-bond on the floor with a bloody froth on her lips," the Zeltron says.

"What do you mean? I kept checking."

"Guess you didn't check enough. You had broken ribs on both sides and both lungs were punctured. You have been in bacta for a couple of weeks, and unconscious for three," Jame says. He turns to the others in the room. "Everybody back to work."

With mumbled well wishes, the other officers file out. Jame smiles. "You had us going there for a while, pirate. Heg says to tell you that the next time you threaten to stuff your doctor in a trash chute when he thinks you need to be in bacta, he is going to find some painful treatment for you." He looks perplexed. "Think it may involve his singing, or something."

She laughs, until she feels twinges on both sides. Dani touches her face, her emotion-black eyes spilling tears freely. Lassa reaches up and touches the tears and wipes them away. She brings the moisture to her lips. "Don't ever fucking do that again," Dani says.

"No more than you should, Captain-I'll-jump-in-front-of-a-blaster-bolt Faygan."

"Yeah, well, it seemed like the thing to do at the time."

Lassa turns to the Commander watching them, his face unreadable. "How about you, stud? How are you doing?" she asks, her hand taking his. He squeezes her hand. "I'm okay, love. You worry about yourself."

She notices something different about him. Her eyes widen as she touches the rank plaque on his chest. Where there had been three blue pips, there were now four. He nods. "They are looking to the future a bit. Where everything has been cell-centered, and Army and starfighter dominant, we may be getting more of a fleet. I guess they thought we have been successful, so they may build us as a foundation for a larger squadron."

"So we now have a full Captain in the Rebel fleet?" the former pirate asks, her eyebrows raising. She grabs him by the rank plaque and pulls him down; bringing him to her lips. "The operative word being 'a' full Captain," he says, as they break free. His lips quirk upwards. "Doesn't really mean much. I still get paid the same. Twice nothing is still nothing. We don't exactly have any capital ships for a full Captain to command."

She touches his cheek. "They are probably just looking for somebody to blame," he says ruefully. 

"Well, technically, as a Captain and commanding a squadron, you should be called Commodore." Lassa adds.

"Don't think you are getting out of it, woman. You have a shiny new bauble on your uniform, as well. She looks at Dani's chest. Three pips of a full commander. She touches it. A mischievous grin plays over the blue features, as she takes the excuse to cup the breast that the plaque rests on.

Dani grins; an expression very similar to a reptilian smile that her father would give. "It ain't like our Commodore hasn't thought of that move, honey."

Lassa grows serious. "What is this all about, Jame?" 

"Apparently, we are the most active cell. They like what we have been doing. I don't know what it means. We may be getting a couple of _Nebulon-Bs._ Command figured that neither one of you would give up your corvettes, so they didn't want you to be ranked by those frigate jockeys."

"They figured I would whine," he finishes. "They know you too well, Commodore." Dani says.

Her eyes light up "Is Ahsoka back?" Both Jame and Dani's eyes grow distant. Jame turns away and walks out. Lassa looks at her heart-bond, dreading the answer.

"She squawked a 'safe' code, dear. She is fine."

Lassa's eyes flash with anger. "Then why the hell is she not back? Her place is here. With her hunt-brother. _With family._ " Dani places her fingers over Lassa's lips. "She felt responsible for Yondu. For all of us nearly getting killed. The task force was looking for her specifically."

"That is bullshit. If anything, she needs the protection of a squadron. Where is she?" Lassa spits out.

"She didn't give her location. I think she is with another cell. Or rotating among them. She keeps moving."

For a moment, Lassa flashes to the fight that she had seen before they had managed to get off of the surface. Of Ahsoka Tano, fighting an Imperial naval commando officer, a rear-admiral. Her rear lek slashed deeply by the woman's knife. Of the woman's neck at an unnatural angle, her dark eyes fixing. Of the powerful warrior rising to her feet and shaking off Lassa's offer of help. She had wordlessly walked to the _Gauntlet_ assault ship.

Lassa had not been able to see her, before she left; she was busy trying to get everyone off of the world and the hell out of there.

She looks down. Dani reaches over and kisses her. "Is she coming back? We can protect her."

"I don't know, babe. She feels like she nearly got Jame and the rest of us killed. That is a hard truth for a protector; a guardian."

"Enough about everybody else, Lassa. Where did you go? That was a helluva scream that you woke up with."

"I went back to the first time Yondu took someone from me," she says, her voice breaking. "I went back to a time when Asajj and I first shared the light."

Dani is silent, but she grasps both of the ex-pirate's hands in hers. Lassa reaches up and touches her cheek.

"I know what she meant to you. I remember when we were all on the ship. At the end of the war. I saw you together. I know you were close. When we came back and Tal told us she was dead, I could see that it affected all three of you. You, Tal, and Ahsoka."

"I knew that you had your past with her, Dani. I knew that she nearly killed you. I kiss that lightsaber scar on your back every time we make love. I thank whatever powers that be there are that she missed."

"That was a long time ago. I...moved on." She smiles softly. "She kept my secret when a certain pirate might have spaced me."

"Who the hell would want to do that? Sounds like a real psychopathic bitch."

"Yeah. But she makes my heart leap every waking moment, now."

Lassa smiles. "It was the best day of my life when Ahsoka 'negotiated' us to fall into each other. To accept what we could mean to each other."

The two women kiss again. When they come up for air, Dani is pensive. "Did you love her? Asajj?"

Lassa is quiet for only a second. "I think so. I don't know. At that time in my life, I don't even think I knew what the hell it meant. It was complicated. I knew she didn't love anyone. It was foreign to her. But, I think we had the closest thing that we could have."

Dani looks into the bronze eyes. "You know it is okay if you did. Love her, I mean." Her own memories bubble to the surface. "You have no problem with the fact that I loved Ti."

"I know. I think that this whole thing, this rebellion is built on love. Love, faith, and hope."

Lassa touches the sides of her lips. Her chin. "Dani, I think it might be time for me to finally adapt Pantoran custom." 

"You already have in a certain way." She runs her hand under the medcenter gown to the ex-pirate's right shoulder blade. Her hand rests against a pair of diamonds and angled parallel lines in white, orange, and blue. Markings similar to those on the forehead of a beloved sister of the heart, as Dani's people call them. "Do you trust me, Daaineran?" Lassa asks.

"With my life, Lassa. With my heart."

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani Faygan blots the towel over her love's face. The small droplets of blood still ooze. The Pantoran skin-bard draws back. "Well, what do you think?" Lassa asks, her eyes fearful. 

Something Dani had never seen in those bronze eyes.

She smiles. "It is beautiful. Very apt, my love."

Lassa stares in the mirror. Two lines of crimson arc downward from the corners of her mouth, under her jaw. The crimson is the exact shade of the skin of the Zeltron looking at her with such love.

The design recalls a fallen warrior. A child born of light, fallen to darkness.

Reclaimed by the light at the end.

Lassa kisses Dani.

Her home.


End file.
